


Apocryphal Power

by stankris



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Buckle up it's going to be a long ride, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magnus doesn't date, Major Original Character(s), Malec-centric, Mild Smut, Violence, Werewolf uprising, but Alec is shameless and doesn't care, especially not mortals, tags updated as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stankris/pseuds/stankris
Summary: In what was no less than a miracle, Magnus had awoken his dormant magic, and not the trickle of power he had expected. He could feel it coursing through his body like electricity seeking the nearest outlet. It was an energy he hadn’t felt since before the Great Decline of the Downworld, since the Sealing of the world and the Purge of all demons from it. He felt jolted wide awake for the first time in centuries, in more ways than one. Now again, unbidden, thoughts of Alec Lightwood surfaced. Alec had made it easy for Magnus to get into the Institute’s anniversary party but harder to leave.Magnus cringed to think he’d nearly gotten entangled with two mortals in one day.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments and the Shadowhunters tv show. The story takes place in the alternate universe of episode 10 of season 1, "This World Inverted." It explores the consequences of Magnus regaining his magic in a world where magic and the demonic are largely things of the past. It’s set in 2010 rather than 2007, so the characters are all a little older (more like they seem in the show). 
> 
> The prologue is set roughly 200 years before the main storyline and provides a glimpse into Magnus's past and the history of this world. If you only listen to one song recommendation for this fic, make sure it's [Ruelle - Carry You ft. Fleurie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rKwPblSdQA) while reading the prologue.

Magnus crept carefully into the small, single room home. He’d glamoured himself invisible, but it was more difficult to mask sounds. Dusty tools lay abandoned, springs and bobbins perched precariously, and half-finished projects littered the floor, making it no easy task to cross the space silently.

The room’s sole proprietor and architect rested on the bed at the back of the room, chest rising and falling slowly.

Her skin was so pale as to be nearly translucent. The bruised blue of her veins showed through fine wrinkles and the delicate latticework of white, faded scars that wrapped around her body – the memory of old runes and old wounds. They were the only remaining indication that she had once been a great warrior.

A halo of pure white hair lay arrayed on her pillow, bright against the duller white of her bedding and gown, as though she were gradually draining all the colour from her surroundings.

Although she looked peaceful from afar, her breathing was audible and laboured. Magnus felt the pain of each breath in his own chest.

He reached out with his magic, searching for something he could heal, but there was nothing. Mortality was not some illness to be cured with magic. But he could ease her pain, at least. As he worked surreptitiously, her breathing softened and some of the tension left her features.

“I know you’re there,” she said in a thin raspy voice, opening her eyes.

Magnus started and held his breath. He’d always been so careful about being noticed, but to be caught now...

“You’ve watched me for a long time,” she said between breaths, “haven’t you?”

He froze, pulse pounding in his ears.

“While I worked... or while I played with the village children... Though I never beheld you, I often felt you there.”

Tears fell from Magnus’s eyes as he covered his mouth with his hands.

“Perhaps I should have been afeared of my unseen watcher... but your gaze has always felt kind, though mayhap a touch lonely...” she trailed off, wheezing heavily, lacking even the strength to cough.

Magnus stifled a sob.

“Who or what are you? Perchance the ghost of someone I once knew?” she asked, when she’d recovered slightly.

She glanced over at him, almost as if she could pierce his glamour. He lowered his hands.

“Something like that,” Magnus answered finally, voice hoarse. Surely he would be forgiven for talking with her just this once.

“So you can speak,” she said. “I don’t know why I have been honoured by your haunting, but I’m glad to have someone here with me, at the end.”

“Essie...” Magnus sobbed.

She reached for him weakly, seeking the source of his voice. He took her hand, bony and knobby with arthritis, and pressed it to his dampened cheek.

“For you to cry over these old bones, I must have been someone dear to you, once.”

Magnus gazed at her through his tears. In his immortal eyes, she appeared to him more beautiful than she ever had, as a flickering flame dances before it is extinguished.

“Yes,” he replied simply, “you were, are still, and will forever remain so very dear to me, Hester Branwell.”

“Branwell – that name, so strange... it is so familiar.”

She paused again to rest, closing her eyes wearily.

“I grow tired,” she said slowly, “will you tell me a story, kind ghost, ere I sleep?”

Her hand grew heavier, so Magnus lowered it to her side but kept it held firmly in his. He would have done anything she asked of him, but what story could he tell?

“Ere this period of peaceful oblivion, there was a brilliant inventor and warrior,” he began tremulously.

He hadn’t planned his words. He shouldn’t say more than this but he knew there had only ever been one story for the both of them.

“She rallied many behind her, and she saved us all from a demonic scourge with her greatest invention.”

Magnus recalled Essie in her youth, dreaming of new designs to the point of distraction. There was no recapturing her attention once she became absorbed in something – that part of her had never changed. She’d even caught fire to her clothes or hair on more than one occasion, remaining unawares and leaving Magnus scrambling to put out the flames.

“On a frozen island, where few dared venture, she toiled for many years until finally, she created a shield encompassing the whole world.”

He’d never known cold as he had in those years spent on Wrangel Island. But still, the long nights spent arguing over diagrams and the days spent with all the others, laughing even as they worked tirelessly, had their own warmth.

“Then, alongside her friends and allies, she took up her sword and fought the remaining demons caught within the shield. They were triumphant, and she should have been hailed a hero.”

He paused, the memories of that time overcoming him. Essie fighting at his side. Essie catching the blow meant for him and his magic. Essie in his arms, bleeding and shuddering from demon poison. Essie, eyes fever-bright, thanking him for healing her. Essie, clutching him in the light of the Angel. Essie looking at him like a stranger. Essie leaving. Essie. Essie. Essie.

“But she forgot,”  he said, voice breaking, “and the world, too, forgot her and all she had done.”

All the days he’d spent since, hiding, watching, felt hollow. Only the sight of her, so familiar at her workbench and yet so strange with her fading runes, had filled him with anything resembling feeling.

“Only a lone ghost still remembered. The ghost could never forget her, because he loved her so...”

Magnus choked off his words as Essie’s eyes fluttered open and her breathing worsened.

“How beautifully sad...” she said so quietly Magnus had to strain to hear it. “Surely the ghost, too, must have been loved...?”

“I don’t know,” Magnus whispered wretchedly.

Her eyes focused on him then, even as their light dimmed. Her expression changed to one of wonder. There was no mistaking it this time. She could see him.

Magnus trembled as he felt the last of her life slipping away through his fingers. He heaved helplessly with gasping breaths of air that he couldn’t give her, as her eyes closed for the last time and her chest stilled.

Still he clutched her hand even as it grew cold.

It would be a long time before he let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! What do you all think of Magnus and Essie?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Magnus and Alec's worlds and get ready for them to collide.

[Song: Eden - love; not wrong (brave)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zq-TCN3aQqM)

Magnus Bane collapsed wearily into his favourite armchair, an antique at this point if he was being honest, and closed his eyes. Images of his day flooded the space behind his eyelids, threatening to drown him. And what a day it had been.

When Clary Fray had arrived for a reading that morning, he could not have predicted that he would end up in the basement of the Institute closing an interdimensional portal while he disposed of a putrefying demon. In this world, portals had only been a distant dream of the past’s most curious innovators. Demons were a distant nightmare that had been all too real. The portal and the demon were unthinkable enough on their own, but even getting so closely involved with a mortal was markedly out of character for Magnus. He saw mortals in passing or for readings and doggedly avoided them otherwise.

Except he hadn’t avoided the little redhead, he’d spent his entire day teaming up with her. She’d been unusual, to be sure, a Shadowhunter from another dimension and a relic of Magnus’s centuries old past. She’d brought chaos and danger back into Magnus’s world, quite literally too, he thought, wrinkling his nose at the renewed memory of the demon. He recalled Clary, urgent and utterly confident Magnus was the only one who could help her. He supposed it was that combination that had spurred him, despite his reluctance. He could rarely ignore those truly in need, not when they had placed their trust in him. An older memory bubbled up from the deluge of the day: another Shadowhunter from another century pleading for help in a different, desperate war. He pushed it aside as firmly as he had the memory of the demon. He did not want to think of the other Shadowhunters he had known tonight. A new face replaced the last, imparting a cheeky wink before it too was dispelled.

His thoughts would not be settled. Such was the price of consorting with mortals, he supposed, though he could not claim to have gained nothing from meeting Clary Fray. In what was no less than a miracle, Magnus had awoken his dormant magic, and not the trickle of power he had expected. He could feel it coursing through his body like electricity seeking the nearest outlet. It was an energy he hadn’t felt since before the Great Decline of the Downworld, since the Sealing of the world and the Purge of all demons from it. He felt jolted wide awake for the first time in centuries, in more ways than one. Now again, unbidden, thoughts of Alec Lightwood surfaced. Alec had made it easy for Magnus to get into the Institute’s anniversary party but harder to leave.

Magnus cringed to think he’d nearly gotten entangled with two mortals in one day. With Clary, at least his involvement ended the moment she disappeared through the interdimensional portal with her blond tag-along (who had made an appearance sometime between when it might have been useful and certain death by demon). He had later glimpsed them dancing at the party. Thankfully, they wouldn’t remember any of what had happened while possessed by their alternate selves. Magnus could have performed some memory magic if necessary, but he was feeling quite drained after sealing the portal and disposing of the demon’s corpse, especially after abstaining for so long.

It had not been so simple escaping Alec. Magnus remembered the warmth of a sudden, steadying hand on his shoulder after he’d emerged from the basement shaken and weak from magic-use.

“Had a little too much, have we?” Alec had asked, eyes twinkling in the roving party lights.

“I’ve had a little too much of a lot of things today.”

“Well that does sound exciting,” Alec had laughed as he steered him to some secluded seating.

He would not hear of Magnus making his way home alone and offered him every comfort he and the Institute could offer. Magnus only managed to slip away after Alec’s sister had called him over to more pressing matters. (Someone named Eric was throwing up in the punch bowl when he really needed to get onstage or Isabelle would never be able to move in with Smedley, or was it Simon? At least, that was the most sense Magnus could make out of Isabelle Lightwood’s hasty, jumbled account.) Alec had left with a parting wink and the assurance he’d return in shining armour.

Magnus was wondering why the Institute would keep a suit of armour, when the sudden ringing of his phone yanked him from his reverie.

“Magnus Bane Tarot Card and Psychic Readings.”

“I would say good evening, but it is not one.” The familiar surly tone left no doubt as to who was calling.

“Raphael! Why? What’s happened?”

“What’s happened? Mutts have been barking at me all evening because a certain dowdy warlock never showed his face.”

Magnus’s heart dropped.

“Oh no, the werewolf meeting...”

“ _Dios_ , yes, the werewolf meeting we planned weeks ago. I saw you yesterday! Have you finally gone senile after four hundred years?” he hissed. There was a bated pause and when Raphael continued his tone softened fractionally. “Magnus, how could you forget?”

“I know– I know. I’m sorry. Today was... today’s just been...”

“What? What could have happened that is more important than the peace and stability of the entire Downworld?”

Magnus contemplated telling him all that had happened. Despite his sharp tongue, Raphael would listen. He was tempted to unburden himself of the day’s turmoil, but he hesitated. He decided he would tell Raphael once he was able to sort his own thoughts on the matter.

Instead he said, “it was a minor turf disagreement. You’re exaggerating, as usual.”

Raphael scoffed, “you have not seen how restless some of the younger ones have become. It is only a matter of time before they do something incredibly stupid.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Magnus sighed.

“Visit Praetor Scott on Long Island. Convince him to do something about the reckless pups.”

There was a shocked silence. The meeting must have gone badly if Raphael was thinking of involving the Praetor Lupus.

“You can’t be serious. You know how I am with mortals... I only agreed to act as mediator tonight because it was you asking me.”

“And now I am asking you to be my delegate to the Praetor. I cannot leave the city, not like this, and I doubt he will take a subordinate seriously. The wolves, they begin to speak of the time before the Purge as a golden age when Downworlders were all-powerful. There are whispers that we would do better having demons return. They are mortal. They do not remember the evil of demons as we immortals do. _Dios_ , even some younger members of my clan are listening to this nonsense.”

“Raphael, _you_ were one of the last vampires to be Turned. You’ve never seen a demon in your life, or unlife for that matter, and you turned out fine. Besides, you know as well as I that the Praetor Lupus is independent from the New York pack and won’t meddle unless matters get serious.”

“I am young, not _stupid_ , and matters _are_ serious. The Praetor Lupus should listen to a warlock, especially one who was there for the Sealing and the Purge.”

“What about sending one of the Fair Folk?” Magnus asked desperately. “Many of them remember a time of demons.”

Raphael scoffed.

“What faerie would even consider it? Any faerie old enough will be hiding, safe in the land of Faerie, as they have always done. They would watch the world burn without ever getting involved. You know I am right. It has to be you, Magnus. Convince the Praetor to discipline the stray dogs running around this city, and perhaps I will forgive you for leaving me to deal with this mess by myself.”

Magnus smiled to himself. “You mean you haven’t already forgiven me?”

“That depends on your answer.”

Magnus heard a returned smile in Raphael’s reply. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he allowed himself to feel relief. Raphael forgave him, and he was now certain he’d made the right choice in keeping quiet about his day. He did not want to add to Raphael’s worries. And as the leader of the New York vampires, he would certainly worry about a demon appearing in his city, no matter how dead and rancid it was now.

“All right. I’ll do it, but only because it’s you.”

“Good. In that case I forgive you, but only because it is you,” he echoed half-mockingly.

“It’ll take some time to set up a meeting with the Praetor, so don’t expect any immediate results.”

“Just don’t forget this time. Goodnight, Bane.”

Raphael hung up without another word, and Magnus settled back into his armchair, thoughts whirling anew.

[Song: Joanna Newsom – Emily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGoNCvoZuYA)

A day later, on the other side of the city, Alec Lightwood was flipping listlessly through a stack of permits for a party he was organizing in the Upper East Side later that month. He was tucking the papers away resignedly when Izzy hurtled into his room, words tumbling out from her in a rush. Her long dark braid was swinging behind her as she gesticulated passionately.

“Simon says he wants me to move in with him by the end of the month, but I haven’t told mom and dad yet and what if they don’t want me to because it’s so expensive to rent in New York, even for two people living together, and even though I’m at the Institute I’m just an intern and they still haven’t really approved of Simon because he’s in a band and...”

She trailed off when she saw Alec’s expression.

“Oh Alec, what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry.”

And just like that, Alec knew she’d completely forgotten her own worries in favour of his, no matter how worked up she’d been a moment before. That was one of the best things about Izzy, he thought.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, and now I’ll never see him again,” he whined. He only pouted a little for the benefit of Izzy’s sympathy. Only a little.

“Todd? But I thought you broke up with him because he was cheating on you with that Caleb guy and you said you never wanted to see him again, so–”

“Not Todd,” Alec interrupted emphatically before she could say any more about that lying jackass. “I’m talking about Magnus Bane, mysterious party crasher. He comes in out of nowhere, steals my heart, and suddenly disappears at midnight without leaving so much as a shoe behind.”

“You need to stop binge watching Disney movies whenever you’re upset over some guy.”

“Let it go,” he sang at her, quirking an eyebrow.

She swatted him, and he flashed her a grin before it slid crookedly off his face.

“This time he’s not just some guy, and he disappeared after you pulled me away to deal with the whole punch fiasco, so technically this is your fault,” he accused petulantly.

Ignoring his tone, Izzy began reminiscing excitedly, “oh, oh, I remember that! Eric, the drunken idiot, was throwing up in the punch bowl right before Simon and The Mortal Instruments had to go onstage, and when I _finally_ found you, you were with this guy way off in a corner–” Alec shot her a look and she changed course. “That was Magnus Bane? You two looked really cute together. Why don’t you just ask Clary for his number? She was the one who asked me to put him on the guest list at the last minute.”

“I already asked Clary!” he wailed. “She had no idea who I was talking about. She must have amnesia or something, because she couldn’t remember most of that day either.”

“Did you try googling him?”

“No, but I searched for him in the Institute’s database. Nothing.”

Alec watched new panic settle over his sister. “You hacked into the Institute’s database? Alec, you could get into so much trouble and how did you even manage to...”

“Relax, Iz. I used your security clearance, so it’s fine.”

“ _Fine_? How is that fine? Now _I_ could get in so much trouble if anyone found out–”

This time she was interrupted by a small figure, slight and bookish, emerging from the doorway behind her. He wore glasses and headphones attached to the tablet he was carrying casually in one hand.

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Max, youngest of the Lightwood siblings at only twelve years old.

“Alec’s upset because he can’t find this guy he likes.”

“Can’t he just find another guy like he usually does?”

“This time it’s different!” Alec burst out, exasperated. “ _He_ was different. Not that I’ll ever find him now.”

“Did you try googling him?”

“That’s what I said,” chimed Izzy.

“No, I didn’t google him, Max, Izzy. I give up. What’s the point? ‘Magnus Bane’ probably isn’t even his real name.”

Alec would have gone on, but Max jumped in.

“Wait. _The_ Magnus Bane?” he asked incredulously.

Alec turned to stare at his little brother.

“You know who he is?” he asked hopefully. “Is he an actor or a model? With looks like that I should have realized he would be.”

“What? No. He’s this meme that’s all over the internet right now. Look, I’ll show you. Even Hodge is in it.”

“Our martial arts instructor?” Alec asked disbelievingly.

In response, Max pulled up a video on his tablet as his siblings crowded behind him. Hodge was indeed in it, but Alec barely spared him a thought because, a minute in, what was unmistakably an auto-tuned Magnus appeared repeating, “I’ll help YOU find your way!” The video faded out on Magnus’s cheesy smile, thumbs-up, and most importantly, his number. Max and Izzy’s giggles fed into each other until they were both struggling for breath.

Alec, resisting the urge to join them, spluttered, “he’s clearly brilliant if his ad went viral!”

Suddenly serious, Max said, “I don’t think that was intentional.”

“You really do like him, don’t you?” Izzy managed, breathless.

“Thanks guys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make an important phone call about my future with a certain sexy psychic.”

Still chuckling, they mercifully made their way out into the hall. Just as Izzy was closing his door, he called after her, “talk to mom and dad about Simon. They might not like it at first, but they’ll come around eventually. They always do.”

“Love you, Alec.”

The door shut on her grinning back at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus had sobered significantly by the time he buzzed Alec into his apartment. He studied him evenly. He could see the harsh lines of angelic beauty, the well-defined cheekbones and straight back discernible beneath his green button-up shirt. Angels were goodness incarnate, but of the absolute, unforgiving kind. They lacked human warmth. Being of Shadowhunter descent, Alec had both. Any frostiness that might have hidden in his features was entirely melted by the way he was currently beaming at Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the rom-com chapters. There'll be plenty of action and adventure later on, but for now I hope you enjoy some Malec fluff.

[Song: Hey Rosetta! – I’ve Been Asleep for a Long, Long time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5bDdE1ckoU)

Magnus was nervously pacing around his Brooklyn flat, pausing only to carefully step over Church or Chairman Meow. His cats were as different as cats could be – Church was an immortal blue Persian Longhair with resting grump-face, and Chairman Meow was a regular grey and white tabby half Church’s size – but at the moment they were both watching him warily with twin pairs of cat eyes.

Five days earlier he’d been scribbling down runes and sketching diagrams, all that he could remember of the portal he’d closed, when the phone had rung.

“Magnus, it’s Alec, Alexander, from last night’s party.”

He’d promptly dropped the charcoal he’d been writing with into his teacup, muddying the tea inside and splattering it all over his notes.

“Alec! How did you get my number?”

“Actually, I saw your ad. It was, um, quite singular.”

“Oh, of course you saw my ad. Did you want to book a reading? What am I saying? Why else would you be calling me?” Magnus’s relief was palpable.

“Yeah, yes. I would like a reading. Uh, from you. That’s why I called you.” He cleared his throat. “When’s your next opening?”

He’d scheduled Alec as his last appointment before he left for Long Island on the weekend, and after many assurances that he was feeling much better than he had at the party, the unexpected call had ended. He’d anxiously thought about the approaching appointment all week, and now it was mere minutes away. Alec wanted a regular reading, he reminded himself. It would be business as usual. It was the werewolf meeting tomorrow he should be worried about, but calm eluded him all the same.

Doubtless it was Alec’s name that was truly bothering him. Shadowhunter names should have died out after the Purge. The Lightwoods, curiously, had managed to retain that last scrap of their Nephilim heritage. Not that they would have any memory of its significance. Magnus had known the Lightwoods, once, and a great many others. He’d fought by their side all through the Sealing and the Purge, though those titles were not yet used to describe the events of that time. Nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, it was simply thought of as the welcome end of a long and brutal war against demons. He felt the ghost of an old anguish rising. He let it revive and settle over himself. The Shadowhunters were the original reason why he’d sworn never again to concern himself with the lives of mortals, and today it was wisest to remember that hard-learned lesson.

He’d sobered significantly by the time he buzzed Alec into his apartment. He studied him evenly. He could see the harsh lines of angelic beauty, the well-defined cheekbones and straight back discernible beneath his green button-up shirt. Angels were goodness incarnate, but of the absolute, unforgiving kind. They lacked human warmth. Being of Shadowhunter descent, Alec had both. Any frostiness that might have hidden in his features was entirely melted by the way he was currently beaming at Magnus.

“I’ve never had a reading before. What do we do first?”

Leading him toward the desk, Magnus began to explain the tradition of Tarot Cards, simultaneously probing Alec for information about himself. Fortunately, he’d met Alec once before and already had a lot to go on, but this was his work, and he took it seriously. Magnus was in fact able to see the future, a rare talent among warlocks, but it was a highly unpredictable ability, manifesting mainly in the rare true dream. Genuine fortune-telling was never as tidy as humans believed it to be. He’d found, however, that a natural aptitude for reading people and hundreds of years experience went a long way in his business.

Alec made his job even easier. He answered unreservedly about his aspirations as an event planner, the upcoming projects he was working on, and more.

“Why did you decide to get a reading today?” he asked as he positioned cards facedown on the desk between them.

At Alec’s long pause, Magnus worried he’d pried too much and raised his suspicions.

After several moments, he replied, “I’ve been in my fair share of relationships, but they’ve never lasted longer than a month or two. I meet people at parties, events, we hook up, and everything is great. For a while. Then the glitter settles, and all I’m left with is disappointment. For once, I’d like to find something real.”

Magnus stopped arranging cards to observe Alec, his candor captivating him. This type of client was rare, he thought. There was the occasional person who treated Magnus’s readings as substitute therapy sessions, but few were as sincere as Alec seemed. Alec returned his gaze intently. Beneath his black hair, his eyes were a rare dark blue. Magnus couldn’t help but notice how beautifully they contrasted with his fair complexion.

“There’s someone I’ve met recently who makes me believe that all could change. That’s why I’m here,” he finished.

“Well, I certainly hope you get the answers you’re searching for.” He resolved to give Alec a favourable reading, though he felt guilty that he’d be unable to answer his sincerity.

“Thanks,” he said, the dazzling smile he gave Magnus compounding his guilt.

 

[Song: Hey Rosetta! – A Thousand Suns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZNWt4oohrM)

“The Seven of Swords. You were being deceived, but the betrayal was uncovered with great embarrassment to the deceiver.”

“Todd.” Alec rolled his eyes.

“But you’re looking forward to new opportunities, perhaps a new project or a new love,” Magnus said after flipping a second card, the Ace of Wands. He flipped a third and fourth card. “Ah, the Lovers and Nine of Cups. You’ll have your wish of a true love, a deep love that could even withstand the test of time.”

He tried to gauge Alec’s reaction, to see if he’d be convinced by such a convenient reading. He was rapt, and Magnus found he had to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

He flipped the Eight of Wands, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Two of Pentacles, and tempered his prediction.

“Many changes are headed your way. You’ll reach a turning point, but it’s difficult to say whether your fortune will be good or bad. Eventually you’ll make a decision. You’ll have a choice between two options. Whatever you choose will determine it all.”

Soon only one card remained to be flipped. It would decide the final tone of the reading. Alec was hanging on his every word.

“We come to the end, the apex of the configuration. The choice you make in the face of all these challenges will lead to...”

He swore inwardly when he saw the Tower, the worst card of the deck.

“What? What is it?”

Magnus had considered concealing the card’s meaning to avoid disappointing Alec, but he was obviously too late. Alec had picked up on his disquiet.

“The Tower,” he said slowly, “signifies an unwanted change or upheaval. It is the card of ruin and destruction.”

At the look of alarm on Alec’s face, he added hastily, “it’s unclear what this card is referring to. Even in ruin there is always something that remains, a chance to rebuild. And look here,” he gestured at the Three of Cups and Three of Wands he’d flipped earlier, “you won’t be alone through it all. You’ll have your friends and family behind you.”

Alec contemplated the invisible map Magnus had laid over the cards.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, Magnus suggested a tea leaf reading or a palm reading, something simple to end the session.

“A palm reading,” Alec said immediately. “I’d like that.”

Magnus asked for his right hand and turned it palm upward, concentrating on the fine creases. Alec’s skin was remarkably smooth. No callouses, no scars, and no runes marked or marred his flesh. Despite focusing his attention downward, he felt the weight of Alec’s eyes on him. The current of magic coursing through him quickened. Rather than suppress it, he thought, _why not?_ As he traced the lines of Alec’s palm, he wove thin filaments of magic over them. Alec would feel no more than a small charge spread from his palm and dissipate.

Magnus sensed him stiffen as he asked wonderingly, “what are you doing to me?”

“I’m searching your energy. It’s very strong. See how solid your life and health lines are? I can tell you come from a long line of proud and powerful people.”

He was cheating a little, using what he’d known of the Lightwoods, and Shadowhunters more generally, centuries earlier.

Alec snorted, “it’s like you’ve already met my parents, power couple of corporate law.”

“You joke about your parents, but your family is exceedingly important to you. You would do anything to protect them and shield them from harm. You’ve always taken on a lot of responsibility, in that sense.”

That much was obvious from the short interaction he’d witnessed between him and Isabelle.

“I’m the oldest,” he said, “and mom and dad have always been busy. Who else would look out for Max and Izzy?”

Extrapolating on the information Alec offered, he continued teasing out his past and relationship with his family. He found he was rather enjoying the way Alec lit up whenever he spoke of his younger siblings.

“Now to look into your future, I’ll need your left hand.” He accepted the proffered hand and began tracing anew. “One day you’ll have a family of your own, perhaps with the true love you seek.”

He discharged another small bit of magic and dared a glance at Alec. The words he’d been forming crumbled on his tongue at the way Alec was regarding him. There was a reverence there that caught at the air he drew into his lungs.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Go where?”

Magnus thought that his brain must be lacking oxygen after his breathing troubles, because he felt very slow-witted.

“Go out. With me. On a date. Do you want to?”

The transparency of his words pierced even Magnus’s sudden cloud of stupidity. He dropped Alec’s hand and stoop up abruptly, the desk between them now seeming a flimsy barrier.

“I can’t,” he said forcefully.

Rising as well, Alec frowned.

“Why? Are you straight? Do you not like men?”

“Straight? No, I’m... I like both men and women, but I’ve never really...”

“Then why can’t you?”

Magnus thought of all the reasons he couldn’t give Alec. _I’m a four hundred year old warlock and, more importantly, I don’t_ date _mortals. I don’t_ date _anyone._ He settled for the portion he could safely say aloud.

“I’ve never dated anyone before, never even kissed anyone, and you sound like you have a lot of experience, so–”

“You think I care about your experience?”

“I’m too old for you!”

At Alec’s disbelieving expression, he clarified.

“I’m older than I look, a lot older. Trust me. You don’t want to be with someone like me. We’re too different. And I have another client coming so you need to leave,” he lied hastily.

“I don’t care how old you are either. Maybe it’s a good thing we’re different. No,” he said as he saw Magnus open his mouth to protest again. “I don’t care. About any of it. All you’ve given me are excuses without ever actually answering my question. I won’t bother you anymore if you say you don’t want to see me again, but I want to hear your answer first.”

He drew a deep breath, and when Magnus didn’t reply, he continued softly, “I like you, Magnus. I felt you were different from the first time I saw you. That’s the real reason why I called you and booked a reading. I wanted to see you again. I _want_ to see you again. So, I’ll ask you one more time. Do you want to go out with me?”

Faced with Alec’s simple frankness, Magnus again found he badly wanted to return his honesty. Still, he was surprised when he heard the words leave his mouth: “I do. The idea terrifies me, but I do.”

He felt Alec’s slow smile spread to him, warming the knot of icy fear that had seized his insides.

“In that case, we can take it slow. Are you free Tuesday night?”

“I am,” he managed.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Seven,” he repeated weakly.

Alec smiled again, as if not quite believing his good fortune.

“I should go, since you have that other client, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Right, client. I’ll walk you out.”

He moved to the door on autopilot. When he reached the door he spun around and found that Alec was standing entirely too close, considering him.

“You’ve never had a date? Never been kissed?”

“No, never. I told you – I’m a poor match for you.”

He swallowed nervously and prayed, unsure whether he was praying for Alec to call off the date or not.

“That’s an easy fix.”

He stepped closer, if that was possible, leaning in as his fingers swept across Magnus’s cheek. The kiss was only a slight press of lips against his, but Magnus hid his fingers in fists, suddenly fearful that sparks might escape his fingertips. He felt like a live wire, unanchored and dangerously charged, and dimly wondered if Alec had magic of his own.

Alec drew away slowly.

“Tuesday,” he said, the word a promise.

Magnus steadied himself against the door, watching him go, wondering what he’d just agreed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave thoughts/comments/kudos/whatever :).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec's first date is coming next week, but for now meet Leona. Hope you like her! She's crucial to the plot going forward.

[Song: Florence + The Machine – Dog Days Are Over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWOyfLBYtuU)

Leona Scott was fleeing Praetor Greene, her personal tutor and eternal watchdog. He was nearly as strict and tedious as her uncle, and he spelled ‘green’ with three e’s. Who did that? He was also annoyingly persistent, she thought, hearing shouting from the massive tan building she’d just escaped. Ahead, a group of trainees all in black looked up from their drill. With barely a hitch in her stride she Changed into a wolf, ignoring the familiar searing burn of reshaped flesh and bone. She darted through the group amidst yelps of surprise. Praetor Greene might be persistent, but few could match her speed, and none she knew could match the ease of her Change. Few werewolves could fully transform, for that matter. Most, like Praetor Greene, could only manage partial transformations. Breaking free of the group, she skidded around the corner of Praetor House and sprinted down the white drive at full tilt. Soon she spotted a copse of trees and leaping, she clawed and scrambled her way up the tallest one, shifting back into human form in the process.

Panting slightly, Leona settled into a crook of the tree, head caught at an awkward angle. During her hurried transformation, a foremost chunk of hair had tangled in the bronze medallion she wore about her neck. She yanked at the frizzy locks caught in the chain and swore as the mess knotted tighter. In frustration, she Changed just enough so that claws grew from her fingertips. She slashed savagely at her hair until it came free. The words _beati bellicosi_ flashed as the medallion settled against tanned skin. The wind blew tufts of hair in her face, so she caught at them and examined her handiwork. Her mother had always tried to get her to do something with her hair, and now she had. One quick swipe, and poof, side bangs.

The symbol of the Praetor Lupus getting caught in her hair – she wondered briefly whether Praetor Greene would call that irony or a metaphor. She plucked at the dingy uniform that marked her as a trainee of Praetor House, a second stinking symbol. She’d never been overly fussed about her clothes, but even she got tired of all-black all the time. Though initially she’d only been running from her lessons, she considered running all the way to her family’s farm twenty-five miles to the east. The prospect was uninviting. She’d run away many times in the beginning, when she still had hope of escaping her uncle’s rigid discipline to the relative freedom of the farm. But she’d been dragged back each time, either by her parents or one of the Praetor Lupus come to fetch her. She often visited in her free time anyway, and they had begun to treat her running away as a matter of course. The game became boring when it was expected of her.

She pictured her father, bearded and grizzled, mending equipment in the kitchen and her mother at the old stove, hair gathered atop her head like spun gold, stray wisps clinging to the sweat of her neck. Leona had inherited a lot from her mother. She’d inherited the lycanthrope virus that made her a werewolf and the proud history of her name. ‘Scott’ was one of the most recognized and respected names in the Downworld. Her uncle often reminded her of this fact when he was trying to curb some of her wilder tendencies. One thing she had not inherited from her mother was her poise. Maybe it came with the Scotts’ fine blond hair. Leona had certainly missed that package deal.

She _had_ learned some things here, she thought grudgingly. She’d completely mastered her Change in the two years since she’d arrived, and she was top of her age group in all manner of physical training. If only there weren’t so many damned rules. And Praetor Greene. She was busy plotting new torments for her stodgy tutor, when she caught a whiff of someone upwind. She tensed to bolt, thinking Praetor Greene had finally found her, but remained hesitantly perched as she recognized the scent of her uncle and a second, unfamiliar one. The stranger smelled unusual, like ink, tea, and something burnt that she’d never encountered before. Caught by her own curiosity, she awaited their approach, peering down through the leaves. She spotted them walking down the drive just before she heard them.

“With all due respect, Praetor Scott, you must understand the seriousness of the situation. The peace we’ve enjoyed these past few centuries was hard won. Demons spared Downworlders no more than they spared humans, despite our demonic origins. The Decline is a small price to pay for that peace.”

She was surprised at how this tall, unfamiliar man addressed her uncle. She’d pay for pointers from their new gutsy visitor.

“Mr. Bane,” replied her uncle, “demons were doubtless a vile scourge upon the world. In that we are in agreement. Even without your assurances, my family’s histories are clear in that regard.”

“Then can we also agree the young werewolves need to be stopped?”

“To stop them, they must first commit a crime. I cannot mobilize the Praetor Lupus on rumours of a few discontented youths.”

“Raphael Santiago has assured me that these are not a minority of rebellious teenagers. He hasn’t yet discovered the movement’s leader, but they are organized. And the New York pack leader appears unable or unwilling to subdue them. It is entirely possible they could find a way to invite demons back into our world.”

The man called Bane stopped walking and faced her uncle squarely.

“The Praetor Lupus was founded after the Purge to fill the void left by Shadowhunters, to police the Downworld and protect the humans. But even the Praetor Lupus would be nearly helpless against a second invasion of demons once they’ve breached the Seals. Traditionally, you’ve only intervened when matters were serious enough they could not be handled internally by werewolf packs or vampire clans. Now a clan leader has come to you for aid, staking his reputation on the need to act now. Will you still stand by and do nothing?”

Leona was baffled at this talk of demons. They seemed part of such a distant past as to be nearly mythological. Stories to frighten children. And yet here was someone convinced they might threaten the world again. His urgency was difficult to grasp. Her uncle also seemed to struggle with the challenge put to him.

He suddenly barked, “Leona! Quit eavesdropping and greet our venerable guest, Magnus Bane.”

The venerable Magnus Bane nearly jumped out of his loafers when she dropped from her tree and landed before them. The name tugged at a memory of hers, but she couldn’t place it. Up close she saw that his eyes were glamoured. Beneath, shining cat-like eyes swept over her once, then fixated on her hair. He had youthful, golden-brown skin and looked barely more than nineteen. A warlock then.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said. And it was – she’d never met a warlock before. Even in the Downworld, they weren’t exactly commonplace. If she’s lucky, she might even see a bit of magic.

“You may tell Mr. Santiago that I will send my niece, Leona Scott, to deal with this matter.”

The eager grin left her face as she and Magnus both gawked at him. Magnus reacted first.

“You must be mad! Sending a single trainee to quell a possible rebellion? She is barely more than a girl besides.”

“Hey!” Leona interjected, resenting his immediate lack of confidence in her. They’d only just met. She hadn’t even had the chance to _do_ anything yet.

“It is true she is young, but she may be better able to convince the other youths for that reason alone. Moreover, she is one of the strongest werewolves of her generation, able to effect a full Change and highly skilled in physical combat.”

Now there was no doubt as to who was more shocked. Leona’s jaw dropped at her uncle’s unprecedented praise. His steely green eyes were perfectly serious.

“Under the circumstances, I believe a small team sent to infiltrate the insurgents would be most effective. One of our most experienced and trusted agents will accompany her. Praetor Greene is highly adept at diplomatic negotiations and one of my oldest friends. He will ensure that her talents are put to the best use.”

Damn it. Of course Praetor Greene would be going. Would she never be rid of him? Still, it would be worth it to go out on a mission and see some real action for a change. And she could always outrun him.

Magnus weighed her silently as her uncle outlined the mission to join the New York werewolf pack and discover all they could of the demon sympathizers. Leona also kept quiet as much as possible, not wanting to give her uncle any reason to change his mind. Inwardly she was celebrating frenetically.

“Leona, are you paying attention? This is critical.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

She couldn’t understand why her uncle sighed so heavily when she was gracing him with her most innocent smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malec's first date! Things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some homophobic language in this chapter, but it's not intended as such. I'm in no way making excuses for homophobia, but you'll see what I mean if you choose to continue reading. If you're at all concerned, you can leave a comment and I'll clarify.
> 
> And don't worry, this chapter is mostly fluff. Maybe a bit of crack.

[Song: Flora Cash – You’re Somebody Else](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVdPh2cBTN0)

It was Tuesday, and Magnus had convinced himself he didn’t have a date. That Alexander Lightwood had asked him out and he’d said yes was too absurd to be real. Sipping tea and holding Chairman Meow for comfort, he wore a dressing gown over flannel pajama bottoms. Making a show of nonchalance, he checked the clock for the seventeenth time in the last ten minutes. Three minutes to seven. Church meowed disapprovingly from his cushions on the couch.

“Don’t judge,” he scolded. Church continued to judge.

At least the weekend had been busy enough that he hadn’t had much time to dwell on the impending, imaginary date. Or the kiss he’d hallucinated. He thought back to his time on Long Island. Praetor Scott had met him at the station upon arriving by train, and he’d spent most of the walk to Praetor House persuading him to intercede in the brewing revolt. He’d ultimately succeeded, but the victory felt hollow. The Praetor Lupus was sending only two of its warriors, one old and grey, and the other fresh out of training.

The wild-haired girl, Leona, was the Praetor’s own niece and seemed entirely too young and too excited to be dealing with a potential crisis. Her unusual mane of hair bounced along with her, charged with her energy and flaring out around her face, the mass seemingly held together by its own gravity. Or perhaps it was static electricity. In any case, uncle and niece seemed to at least acknowledge the abhorrent nature of demons, but neither seemed fully convinced they could return.

Once the details of the mission were finalized, he’d left with the assurance that Praetor Greene and Leona would arrive in the city later that week. He’d immediately gone to Raphael to report on the meeting. He hadn’t been pleased with the Praetor’s solution. Magnus had struggled to assure him that they could hope for no more aid from him. He’d also impressed upon him the great difficulty any Downworlder would have summoning demons back into the world.

“Could a warlock do it? If they wished to?” Raphael had demanded.

Magnus had replied uneasily, “not without considerable magic and knowledge of the Seals.”

“Then let us be thankful the Decline has weakened all Downworlders, not just the werewolves.”

Once again Magnus had failed to tell Raphael of his recovered magic, the dead demon, and the interdimensional portal. His conscience ate at him, but he told himself that he had taken care of the portal and the demon, and no one else knew of his magic. When they could truly relax in each other’s company again and laugh about this whole mess, he would tell him.

The buzzer to his apartment sounded, snapping Magnus back to the present. Momentarily stunned, he let the visitor up. His stupefaction wore off quickly as he realized he might have a date after all and he wasn’t dressed. With a snap of his fingers, he traded his pajamas for khakis, but faltered on choosing a shirt.

The question of what constituted a date shirt was continuing to cause Magnus great inner turmoil when Alec walked in. He stopped dead and took in Magnus, shirtless, cat in hand, and fingers hovering mid-snap.

They stood like that, each looking at the other in amazement, until Alec broke the silence.

“Wow. Personally, I approve of your choice in outfit, or lack of one, but I’m not sure the restaurant will.”

Magnus was suddenly acutely aware that he had no belly button. His cat eyes, his more obvious warlock mark, were hidden by a glamour he used subconsciously at all times, but he rarely had to worry over his lack of a navel. Chairman Meow, who was the last shield between Alec and his second warlock mark, decided to start squirming in that moment. Pivoting just as the Chairman wriggled free, he fled wordlessly to his bedroom and hurriedly shut the door, cheeks burning.

Inside the relative safety of his room, Magnus dithered about for another few minutes before finally choosing a dark grey turtleneck sweater. He hadn’t quite decided if it was date appropriate, but with the turtleneck he felt the least exposed.

Dressed this time, Magnus emerged from the bedroom and saw that Alec was examining his collection of books, holding a traitorous, purring Chairman. He was struck by the sight. Alec had  acclimated to his apartment unexpectedly swiftly. He seemed a new, seraphic statue amid ancient spell books and antique furniture, the accumulation of Magnus’s life in quiet recluse.

“I– I’m sorry about before. Sorry I’m such a terrible date.”

Alec turned, looking amused, eyes flickering over him.

“Not at all. You gave me a fantastic surprise. Normally you would wait until the end of a date before taking your shirt off, though I’m fine doing things out of order.”

Beneath his blazer, he wore a blue v-neck shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Appraising him, Magnus settled once and for all what made a date shirt.

Magnus crossed his arms over his sweater and, hoping to change the subject, remarked, “the Chairman likes you.”

“Is that this cutie’s name?” He scratched under Chairman Meow’s chin and looked over at Church, who was still judging them all silently. “I think your other cat hates me.”

“Church? Don’t worry about him. He hates everyone.” At that, Church stalked off to the bedroom. “See?”

[Song: Neon Trees – Animal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gM7Hlg75Mlo)

For their date, Alec brought Magnus to an unassuming restaurant in Chinatown. Magnus was apprehensive as Alec unwittingly led them into werewolf territory but relaxed a little once they reached the restaurant. There was not a Downworlder in sight. They ordered Peking Duck. The chef carved through the crisp skin in front of them and served it with sweet-tasting pancakes and cucumber sticks. Alec had asked Magnus if he wanted anything else, but faced with the spread before them he was glad he’d declined.

During the date Alec was charming and flirtatious, Magnus flustered and shy. Despite his nerves, Magnus found he greatly enjoyed both the food and Alec’s company. They talked siblings and cats, parties and readings. And if Magnus was a little quiet in his nervousness, Alec didn’t seem to notice or mind.

“You know, it came true, the fortune you gave me,” Alec said conspiratorially, leaning closer across their small, round table.

Magnus’s plate suddenly had his full attention as he meticulously chewed his way through a piece of duck. He ran over every word he had ever said to Alec, but he kept going back to the fortunes he’d given Alec on his love-life.

When he couldn’t delay answering any longer, he said, “which one?”

“The Tower,” Alec stage-whispered. Magnus glanced up at him sharply, questioningly. “I’d been planning this wedding for months,” he continued. “Beautiful couple. The ceremony was on the weekend, but at the last minute there was a mix up at the flower shop. All they had left for us were your basic roses or lilies. I thought, _roses are so overdone_ , so I chose the lilies, but I should have _known_ better. Lilies are funeral flowers.”

He paused dramatically, prompting Magnus to ask, “what happened?”

“The bride ran away with the best man hours before the wedding and the whole thing was called off! It was disastrous! All that work gone to nothing. But I remembered what you said and recruited Izzy, Clary... anyone I could. We switched some decorations around, Simon’s band – from the Institute’s party – played, and we threw the groom the party of his _life_. He even discovered a new part of his sexuality judging by the guy he went home with that night,” Alec finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

He laughed in relief and amusement as Alec continued with stories from his eventful weekend. Magnus regretted that he couldn’t do the same. Beyond telling Alec that he’d gone to Long Island on business for a friend, he couldn’t elaborate. Still, he was feeling wistful when the dishes were finally cleared away and the waiter presented them with the bill. Magnus reached for it, but Alec stayed his hand.

“Please, let me. I was the one who asked you out tonight.”

He curled his fingers around Magnus’s briefly before releasing him and taking the slip. Magnus quickly thanked him and excused himself while Alec paid for their meal.

Once in the restroom, Magnus locked himself in one of the grey stalls and began frantically performing magic. Blue flames danced from his fingers in intricate patterns, the toilet flushed on its own, and individual squares of toilet paper were sent home to his cats. Chairman Meow would appreciate the gift even if Church didn’t. It was a short-term solution, but he didn’t know what else to do about his magic going berserk every time Alec so much as touched him. He reasoned that it must be a side-effect from getting it back after so long. He’d have to work on his control.

Having burnt off some excess magic, he rejoined Alec, who was leaning patiently by the exit. Magnus had assumed they would part ways once their meal was finished, but he didn’t refuse when Alec offered to accompany him home.

A few blocks away, they waited for the train that would take them back to Brooklyn. Magnus shot anxious glances at a heavily muscled man watching the two of them from further up the platform. His hair was unkempt, he was shirtless despite the chill night, and he was very obviously a werewolf. Alec soon noticed he’d lost the attention of his date. Following Magnus’s gaze, he locked eyes with their observer, who started to saunter over to them with a dangerous grace.

Alec placed himself between Magnus and the approaching werewolf. It was laughable that Alec would try to protect him when he was at the height of his power. But Alec didn’t know about his magic, and Magnus couldn’t exactly start wielding fireballs in the middle of the subway station either. He found the gesture startlingly endearing. However, he would much rather his human date did not get into a fight with a werewolf, Shadowhunter heritage or not.

“Alexander,” he began cautiously.

“You got something to say to us?” he challenged, ignoring Magnus’s warning.

“You two smell queer,” the werewolf replied, having stopped a few feet away.

Magnus groaned inwardly as Alec bristled.

“Excuse me?”

“You smell like you’re about to shoot rainbows, and he,” he said pointing over Alec’s shoulder at Magnus and turning up his nose, “smells really queer. Burnt, like some flaming–”

“Homophobic piece of shit!” Alec erupted, all righteous fury.

Magnus grabbed at Alec just as he launched himself forward. It was all he could do to hold him back.

“Homo– What?”

The werewolf with the poorest choice in words imaginable took a step back, genuinely shocked. Nearby travellers averted their faces or moved further away. Magnus hardly blamed them. He didn’t exactly want to be involved in this dispute either. And he didn’t know how to explain to Alec that their keen-nosed acquaintance was being literal.

“Alec, wait. Please.”

“I’m not going to let him throw slurs at you, Magnus!”

“Magnus? Wait, _Magnus_ _Bane_?” Alec stilled in Magnus’s grip. “Hey, I’m sorry man. I never meant to insult you.”

“How do you know Magnus?” Alec asked, wary. Magnus wondered the same. His name wasn’t well-known by many werewolves outside of the Praetor Lupus.

Sticking out his hand amiably, he said, “I’m Matt Jensen. I’m the leader of the–”

“Aahh!” Magnus cried out. “Matt Jensen! Yes, I know you.”

“You do?” Alec seemed entirely nonplussed at this turn of events. Matt was noticeably pleased and unbothered that no one had shaken his hand.

“He knows Raphael, a good friend of mine. Don’t you?”

He pleaded silently, hoping he would play along, but he didn’t have much confidence in this particular werewolf’s ability to read a situation. No wonder he was having trouble keeping his pack under control. He mentally apologized to Raphael for accusing him of bias when he described the New York pack leader as ‘an incurable musclebrained idiot.’

“So you’re friends with Magnus’s friend,” Alec said slowly.

Matt pulled a face.

“He’s not my friend. We deal with each other when we have to. But I have mad respect for Magnus Bane.”

Alec looked as though he had many more questions he’d like to ask Matt, but thankfully their train arrived. Magnus voiced a hasty farewell and led Alec off the platform. He saw Matt wave merrily and lope off into the night. No doubt he’d been patrolling the streets before he’d detected their scent. Magnus cursed his carelessness. He’d never considered that he’d have to conceal the trace of his magic from the sensitive noses of werewolves. Or that he’d have to worry about Alec. From his past dealings, he knew that Shadowhunters, and apparently those of Shadowhunter descent, have a sunshine-like smell due to their angel blood, but he’d never heard anyone describe it quite as colourfully as Matt Jensen. Magnus’s head ached as he tallied his new list of problems.

Most of the ride back to Brooklyn was spent in uncomfortable silence. Alec’s easy manner had left him. He sat next to Magnus but was pointedly avoiding eye-contact and only spoke when prompted. Magnus despaired at having gotten him entangled in the affairs of the Downworld. He had been incredibly foolish to believe that he could have even this one date with Alec.

Out in the night air, after leaving the subway, Magnus was still lost in gloomy thoughts when Alec blurted, “I’m so sorry I ruined our date.”

“What?”

Alec faced Magnus, contritely clenching his fists.

“You said you’d never been on a date, so I wanted badly for you to have fun tonight. When I thought it would end with some homophobe harassing you, I just lost it. Then he turned out to be someone you know, and I completely embarrassed myself in front of you,” he answered all in one rushed breath.

“If anyone ruined tonight it was me. You showed up and I wasn’t ready at all, but you still treated me to a delightful meal. You were just trying to protect me, and I–” _And I’m dragging you into the darkness of my world when you should be living free from all this._ “And Matt Jensen is an incurable musclebrained idiot with absolutely no tact,” he amended.

Alec brightened considerably.

“Seriously though. Who tells someone they smell like rainbows?”

The carefree way Alec suddenly doubled over in laughter made Magnus want to believe everything would be alright after all. He joined him in his mirth until all the awkwardness from before evaporated in the riotous sound.

When they reached his building, Magnus hesitated. He couldn’t invite Alec upstairs (not with all the toilet paper he’d magicked from the restaurant earlier), but he wasn’t ready to end things either.

“Can I see you again?” Alec asked, hopeful.

Magnus considered. He had many reasons to refuse. He ought to refuse for Alec’s sake if nothing else. If only he had stuck to his principles, he wouldn’t be in this predicament at all.

“I never should have gone out with you in the first place.”

“Magnus?” Alec’s voice was low and worried.

“I’m afraid,” Magnus started babbling. “I barely know you, but I want to. Know you, that is. But what scares me most of all is the thought of losing you, Alexander, so I can’t–”

Alec closed all distance between them, and Magnus never got the chance to finish his sentence. This kiss had none of the gentleness Alec had shown before. His mouth sought Magnus’s fast and fierce. Magnus clutched at Alec, responding clumsily, but eagerly, in kind. The fever of lips and tongues burned away the last of his reason. There was only Alec and the stunning foreignness of his kisses. Magic rumbled through him like a growing tempest, barely contained beneath the crush of Alec’s embrace. He feared he might shatter apart if Alec let go, but he only held him tighter, pushing him up against the door. Magnus heard plaintive noises escape his throat as Alec kissed along his jawline, lingering just beneath his ear.

“We could go upstairs,” he breathed against Magnus’s skin.

When Magnus understood the meaning of his words, he pushed Alec firmly away, shivering as the night suddenly felt much colder.

“Now isn’t a good time,” he said evasively, still reeling from the storm Alec had aroused in him.

Alec ran his hands repeatedly through his hair as he stepped back, hiking up his rumpled date-shirt.

“You’re right. I got carried away when I was the one who said we would take it slow.”

Magnus sorely wanted to reassure him. Or kiss him again. He wasn’t sure which.

“I often have breaks between clients, so you could stop by sometime if you’re in the neighbourhood. You know, as long as you tell me beforehand. And, um, I’m usually free evenings,” Magnus said shyly.

Alec let his hands drop from his newly minted mess of hair as he studied Magnus. Carefully, he took Magnus’s hand and kissed the backs of his fingers.

“I’ll call you, then. Good night, Magnus,” he said tenderly.

Magnus felt his hand slip limply from Alec’s as he turned away and disappeared down the street.

When he had recovered somewhat, he went inside to his apartment. There he found a blissful Chairman Meow rolling amid a pile of crumpled toilet paper. Church stood nearby looking unimpressed and superior, but when he padded away, Magnus saw a square of paper stuck to his rear paw. For the second time that night, Magnus gave in to giddy laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leona takes on the world or, at least, the New York pack.

[Song: Pink – Trouble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFu3YzRnyDU)

Leona barged into the Jade Wolf, peeling the glamour off the old, abandoned police station. A dozen or so heads turned to stare at her testily. She took a deep breath of stale air, thick with the smell of wolf.

“Where’s Matt Jensen?” she called out loudly.

“Here,” said a muscular man rising from a group of werewolves lounging around the centermost desk. He wore stained, torn jeans and nothing else. Leona took in his size, build, and thick brown hair covering his chest and arms. She approved even as he flexed and cracked his knuckles threateningly.

“Who’s asking?”

“Someone looking to join the pack,” she replied, loosening her shoulders.

Matt blinked blankly. Just then the door burst open once more, revealing the wiry figure of Praetor Greene. He was panting heavily.

“Already? It was just getting good,” she whined.

Praetor Greene took in the scene instantly, identifying the alpha of the room.

Between laboured breaths he managed, “apologies for my niece, Leona – her manners are a bit rough. I’m Jeremiah Greene. You must be Matt Jensen, the pack leader here.” He inclined his head respectfully.

Leona rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to reveal the lie. Her actual uncle was bad enough, but now she had to pretend to be related to Praetor Greene on top of it all.

“That’s me,” Matt said, seemingly mollified. The others looked on curiously but silently. “What can I do for you?”

“I took Leona in a couple years ago after her parents, my brother and his wife, passed away in an accident. It’s been difficult raising her all on my own, so we’ve been looking for the support of a pack. Of course, I would contribute to the pack as well. I’m highly skilled with managerial tasks. And Leona, though a little wild,” Praetor Greene said looking at her askance, “is a very promising young werewolf.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t let us in, I’m just going to fight you anyway,” Leona chipped in.

Praetor Greene glared, but Matt barked a laugh.

“You’ve got guts, kid. Tell you what, because I like you, I’ll let you two in the pack.”

“We could fight anyway,” she said hopefully. “It’d be fun.”

“Perhaps we could discuss the particulars privately?” Praetor Greene intervened.

“Sure. We can use the office.” Turning to Leona, he said, “maybe later, kid. I gotta talk to your Uncle Jerry first.”

“Boo,” she replied, but she was pacified at being let into the pack so easily. Seeing Praetor Greene’s shock at being called ‘Uncle Jerry’ also helped.

“Don’t cause any trouble for our hosts while I’m gone, Leona,” Praetor Greene warned.

“Sure thing, _Uncle Jerry_.”

Still glowering at her, Praetor Greene followed Matt into an office against the far wall. Their audience then turned back to each other, the majority content to ignore Leona. Scanning over them, she saw a lot of slumped shoulders and tired eyes in old, worn faces. _What the hell_ , she thought. Where were all the young, hot-blooded rebels she was supposed to be ass-kicking to the moon? _We’re here to investigate, not confront_ , Praetor Greene’s voice echoed in her head, but she ignored it.

Her eyes landed and locked on a girl about her age huddled in a far corner of the room over a binder of notes. The girl quickly turned away and shrunk further into herself.

Undeterred, Leona strode up and plopped herself down on top of the girl’s desk. The girl’s eyes went wide beneath her loose, brown curls as she gaped up at her.

Leona threw her head back and laughed, “is there something on my face?”

The girl worked her mouth silently, then managed, “no.”

“What then?”

“You challenged Matt,” she blurted.

Leona raised both eyebrows to say, _so?_

She shook her head disbelievingly, eyes still wide.

“...you’d have to be crazy to challenge Matt. No one’s ever challenged him before, for obvious reasons.”

 “Muscles and power aren’t everything in a fight,” she retorted. Praetor Greene was proof of that. He was thin, almost gaunt, and could transform only fangs and claws before he reached his limit, and yet he still managed to beat her in sparring matches nine times out of ten. She’d learned not to judge her opponents by appearance alone.

Before Leona could elaborate, a boy swaggered into their space. She must have missed him in her original scan of the room. _Speaking of appearances_ , she thought. He seemed a few years older than her, but he was really scrawny for a werewolf and, she noted, the scent of wolf was faint on him, meaning he had a weaker strain of the lycanthrope virus. So weak, in fact, that if her sense of smell had been less developed, she might have mistaken him for a human. Despite his underwhelming presence, he had a certain intensity to him in the set of his shoulders and shine of his eyes.

“So you’re Leona Greene?”

“Yup, guess that’s me,” Leona said, suppressing a shudder. She never thought she’d miss being a Scott, not with all the expectations the name carried. It was only now that she had to pretend to be a Greene that she suddenly became attached.

“I’m Erik _Lincoln_ ,” he said cockily, “you might have heard the name before.”

She decided that she already disliked this guy.

“Oh, Erik Lincoln? Really?”

Erik looked smug, jaw tilting a little higher.

She leaned towards him conspiratorially and said, “who are you supposed to be?”

Exasperated, he snapped out, “my father, Max Lincoln, was pack leader before Matt. You would know that if you were from here. He was the best leader we’ve ever had, nothing like it is now.”

“And what the hell does that have to do with you?” she asked, hiking an eyebrow as high as it would go.

The girl giggled softly at the jibe, concealing a smile behind her binder. Leona, still perched on the desk, grinned back down at her.

Erik’s hands spasmed in badly contained anger, and he turned on the smaller girl, who averted her eyes quickly.

“You think it’s funny, Callie?” he spat. “When I’m pack leader, I won’t have any use for ugly, useless trash like you. You’ll be back on the street, where you belong.”

Erik flinched backward as Leona slammed her hand down _hard_ on the desk in front of him. Her newly-formed claws dug nearly an inch into the surface, and a few nearby werewolves glanced over at the harsh noise, but made no move against her. They seemed content to let the younger generation settle things amongst themselves. It struck Leona as bizarre, though welcome, after Praetor House.

“What do you say we have a match? It’ll be good practice if you’re aiming to be pack leader,” Leona said sweetly.

Erik’s mouth twisted hatefully, eyeing her claws and taking another step backward.

“I don’t waste my time fighting little girls.”

“Too bad,” Leona said, bristling while holding back the rest of her Change and the urge to lunge at Erik. “The offer is always open. I don’t discriminate in my matches, even when my opponent is a spineless asshole like you.”

 “Crazy-hair bitch! You’ll regret that,” he threatened, fully backing away like the coward he was. “Maybe Matt has time to play with you, but I have better things to do.”

She didn’t try to hide her distaste as she watched him go.

“What the hell is his deal?” she asked no one in particular once he’d fully fled the base.

“Thanks for that, Leona,” the girl – Callie – said quietly.

“It was my pleasure,” Leona said with a huff. Deciding it was high time she did some actual investigating, she added, “what happened to all the other young people? Please don’t tell me Erik scared them away with his charming personality and it’s just you and me left.”

Callie seemed uncomfortable at the question, but it was difficult to distinguish whether it was a new emotion or a natural extension of her shyness.

“They don’t hang around much these days, but if you stay here you’ll meet them eventually. They drop by once in a while, like Erik just now.”

Leona thought it best to leave it at that for the moment. She worried she might have blown an opportunity by antagonizing Erik. But the idea of stroking his overblown ego, even temporarily, was so repulsive, that she couldn’t feel all that remorseful about it. She’d find some other way.

When Matt and Praetor Greene still didn’t emerge from the office, Leona assumed Matt must be busy getting an earful. Leona was glad it was him and not her. She found it refreshing that no one knew her as a ‘Scott’ or ‘the Praetor’s niece’ here. And she quite liked Callie, who had answers for all her questions. She even outlined the pack’s territory, sketching New York on a scrap of paper when Leona didn’t follow. Callie was pretty knowledgeable of the city’s geography.

“Did you really live on the streets before?”

Callie looked away, embarrassed.

“Briefly. I got kicked out of my relatives’ place a couple years ago, but Matt found me not long after that. I’ve never known my parents, so I didn’t even know I was a werewolf until he told me. I thought he was crazy, but I followed him here because I was pretty desperate at the time.” She laughed humourlessly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I can’t really imagine what that must have been like.”

Callie met her eyes. There was a quiet watchfulness to her returned gaze. Leona wondered at what she’d seen and hadn’t told.

“It’s okay. It’s not something you understand until you’ve lived it. I’m glad to be part of the pack now, even if I’m a terrible werewolf.”

Leona considered that last comment. She realized she hadn’t once tried to assess Callie’s strength or wanted to spar with her. Callie seemed inherently non-threatening, despite the clear scent of wolf on her. She had a habit of hiding her face behind her curls, and she held her shoulders turned in on themselves, small despite her plumpness. She supposed that timidity was what Callie meant, but she also thought of how informative and accommodating her new friend had been.

“You’re a way better werewolf than Erik Whatshisname. There’s no way he can draw a map of the pack’s territory. He’d just go on about how his daddy charted it fifty years ago.”

Leona was rewarded when Callie blushed and giggled again.

“He would too.”


	7. Glitter Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec takes Magnus to one of the events he's organized for their date. Magnus is just trying to fit in. Neither of them expected to run into Alec's exes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is bonus Malec just for fun. Aline, Helen, and Bat have a brief feature here too. The next chapter will pick up the plot again.

[Song: Kylie Minogue - Can't Get You Out Of My Head ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c18441Eh_WE)

Magnus risked being buried alive by glitter. The storage room of Pandemonium was lined with boxes upon boxes of the stuff, and they were shaking precariously as Alec rummaged through them, scattering tinsel, confetti, and incandescent boas. The situation was made riskier by the cables and extension cords that snaked through the entire mess and the light dusting of fine glitter coating everything and making the floor dazzlingly treacherous.

Shuffling his feet carefully so as not to slip, he moved to a relatively stable looking corner of the room, all the while questioning the life choices that had led him there tonight.

On their last date, Alec had invited Magnus to the glitter party he was hosting for a local LGBTQ group. Magnus had been so preoccupied with staring dreamily into Alec’s eyes that he’d absent-mindedly agreed to go. After that, Alec had been too thrilled for Magnus to have the heart to admit his mistake.

When he’d met Alec outside the club, he realized how inappropriately he’d dressed himself. He’d picked out an argyle sweater, thinking the pattern at least was fun, but argyle couldn’t compare with the colourful explosion that was Alec’s party and guests.

Alec himself was effulgent. Adorned nearly all in gold, he looked even more an angel than usual. And as with an actual angel, Magnus struggled to face him directly. His dark hair was streaked with gold and arrayed in messy spikes, and subtle gold makeup accentuated his eyes and cheekbones. His white, cotton shirt hung loosely, displaying a good expanse of chest through its open neckline. And he wore tight, golden leather pants, which Magnus was trying hardest to ignore.

After Magnus had shamefacedly expressed his lack of suitable party clothes, Alec had told him not to worry and pulled him into the storage room.

“Found it!” Alec exclaimed triumphantly. “I knew I had a spare shirt here somewhere.”

Alec shook out a black t-shirt, shedding its excess glitter.  When he handed it over, Magnus saw that it had ‘Feel the Rainbow’ written on it in multicoloured sequins.

“Try that on.”

“Where can I change?”

“Um, here?” Alec replied uncertainly.

Magnus pressed the shirt into his gut.

“Could you turn around?”

“Oh,” said Alec with a blink and slightest twitch to his eyebrows. “Sure.”

Blessedly, he showed him his back. Once Magnus felt certain Alec couldn’t see, he swapped his sweater for the t-shirt with a twist of his fingers. It fit a little snugly, but he was relieved the dark material hid the unbroken flatness of his stomach.

“Okay, you can look now,” he told Alec.

Alec turned and took him in. It was only a t-shirt, but Magnus suddenly became conscious that he’d never worn so little in front of Alec before, with the exception of that one disastrous moment on their first date when he’d only had Chairman Meow covering him.

“It looks good on you,” Alec said appreciatively.

“ _I_ look like a fish out of water,” Magnus said, tugging the shirt’s hem down further. “ _You_ look like an angel descended from heaven.”

“From anyone else that would be such a cheesy line, but from you...” Alec shook his head grinning. “Come on, let’s join the party.”

Alec neatly folded and tucked away Magnus’s sweater, which was distinctly sparklier than it had been, and led him out of the storage room.

The club itself was an even more resplendent display. The bass beat out a steady rhythm, and balls of confetti waited to be dropped on the dancers, who wore glittering assortments ranging from fishnets to pasties.

They had scarcely merged with the crowd, when a petite woman in a metallic vest intercepted them. Dark brown eyes shining brightly in the pale triangle of her face framed by straight, black hair, she was more striking than conventionally pretty. Magnus noted that she too appeared to be of Nephilim descent.

“Alec!” she called, catching him in a hug.

 “Aline, darling!” Alec said, returning her embrace.

“The party’s perfect! You outdid yourself again.”

“Stop!” he said waving her off. “Aline this is Magnus, my date.” He touched Magnus lightly on the shoulder. “Magnus, this is my friend Aline, the orchestrator behind tonight’s event.”

“Hi,” he told her.

“So you’re the hottie Alec’s been dying to show off,” she said with a wide grin.

“Hottie?”  Magnus repeated.

“Yeah, he is,” Alec admitted, ducking his head sheepishly.

Magnus was growing increasingly tongue-tied the longer their conversation went on. He opened his mouth a couple times, but never got anything out.

“Speaking of hotties,” Aline continued. “I’ve got my eye on the gorgeous blonde over there.”

She nodded toward the edge of the dancefloor at a woman with silver dress and hair, dancing by herself to the music. There was an ethereal quality to her appearance and movements. Magnus, squinting, decided she must be part fey.

“It’s not like you to be so shy,” Alec encouraged.

“You’re right.”

With a last parting gesture, she left as suddenly as she’d arrived, skillfully weaving away through the throng of people. Magnus watched with interest as she joined the blonde woman in her dance. They smiled at each other, and Aline leaned closer to say something in her ear.

“I’ll get jealous if you stare so much,” Alec said, cutting through his thoughts.

He’d said it good-naturedly, but Magnus saw a touch of real insecurity in Alec’s gaze. He glanced down and was confronted yet again by Alec’s leather pants and the way they clung to every curve and–

“Staring’s not the problem,” he said as he raised his eyes hastily, feeling his face flush.

Alec’s eyes flickered over Magnus and his lips parted. _He’s going to kiss me_ , Magnus thought with a now familiar rush of restless magic.

“Jello shots?” asked one of the staff dressed all in black, appearing beside them. The shots in question were arranged in shimmering rainbow hues.

Magnus passed on the radioactive-looking gelatin. Alec, too, declined with a sigh.

“Do you want something from the bar?” he asked Magnus when the waiter had gone. “I could use a martini.”

Before Magnus could reply, Alec’s phone went off. He was in high-demand tonight.

“Damn it,” he cursed, checking his screen. “DJ Bat needs help with the sound system.”

Alec looked pained as he turned to Magnus.

“I’m sorry. It won’t take long. Would you mind if I–”

“I’ll get us those drinks while you work,” Magnus reassured him with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you.”

Alec backed away with hands held together as if in prayer. Once at the DJ’s booth, he greeted a tall, broad shouldered man. Magnus watched them gesture at each other for a moment longer before finally making his way alone to the bar.

The crowd was so thick and swarming there that Magnus found himself pushed into a corner, far from the centre of the action. He waited several minutes before signalling half-heartedly in the bartender’s direction, but he felt invisible next to the boisterous, shouting bunch to his right.

“Hon, you need to command attention if you want to be served,” boomed a deep, sultry voice behind him.

Magnus looked over his shoulder and up at the most alarming drag queen he’d ever seen. She had red horns partially buried in the voluminous hair piled atop her head, her twilight-dark bosom was spilling out of a sparkling red corset and dress, and she towered over Magnus.

“I’m Chleo Taurus,” she introduced herself grandly, “because there’s no excuse for not being able to find _me_.” She preened her dress and winked down at him. “But you can call me Ms. Chleo.”

“I’m Magnus Bane,” Magnus said.

“The would be a GREAT drag name,” gushed Ms. Chleo.

“I don’t think I–” Magnus stuttered, “you’re very glamorous, but I’m not–”

“You’re so cute I could just eat you!”

Magnus’s eyes widened at the sudden turn the conversation had taken toward cannibalism.

“Are you here with someone?” she asked.

“Yes, um, the event planner actually invited me,” Magnus said, glancing over in Alec’s direction involuntarily, but he was too far away to spot him.

“You’re Alec’s new man!”

Magnus jumped at the sudden shout.

“You know Alexander?”

“We dated briefly, but we wanted different things from the relationship,” she informed him gravely. “We’re still friends though.”

“Oh, I– I see.”

Ms. Chleo evaluated him thoughtfully with a sweep of her gargantuan eyelashes.

Magnus forced a laugh and said, “I know I don’t really suit him.”

“That’s not it at all!” she protested. “You’re not the type he usually goes for, but I think you suit him much better.”

Magnus looked at her skeptically, this fabulous person that Alec had dated before him.

“Exes are exes for a reason,” she laughed deeply. “Alec’s too serious for the boys he’s been playing around with. He needs a man that will treat him right.”

Magnus worried at one of the blue sequins on his shirt.

“I want to. Treat him right. If I can.”

She laid her hand flat on his forearm.

“Do you want my advice, Hon?” Magnus nodded. “Have a little confidence and a little fun, and shine. That’s all you need for a glitter party. Everything else is just extra.”

She straightened.

“What drinks you want, Magnus? I’ll get them for you.”

Despite Magnus’s protestations, Ms. Chleo insisted. She hailed the bartender and had their drinks within seconds. Magnus could scarcely have magicked them quicker, which admittedly he’d considered as a last resort.

Sliding two martinis toward Magnus, who had settled on the same drink as Alec by default, she told him: “Give my regards to Alec for the great party.”

With one last grand flourish, Chleo Taurus joined the writhing bodies on the dancefloor.

[ Song: Kylie Minogue - All The Lovers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frv6FOt1BNI)

Bat nodded his thanks and dove back into his music as Alec stepped out from the DJ booth and searched for Magnus in the crowd. He was taking a surprisingly long time to get drinks. Alec hoped nothing was wrong. Magnus had seemed highly uncomfortable since arriving, and Alec worried about him being alone.

He was making his way toward the bar when someone grabbed him by the waist. He spun around with a wide smile, saying, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come back.”

His smile dissolved instantly.

“Expecting someone else?” asked the man before him.

He wore very tight, very small shorts, and a mesh shirt that did little to cover his sculpted torso and the copious amounts of glitter smeared all over his tan, olive brown skin. He was annoyingly attractive. Worse, he knew it. Alec had fallen for his charms once, but now the sight of him only brought anger.

“What are you doing here, Todd?”

“I miss you, Alec.”

“Well I don’t. I told you I never wanted to see your face again.”

Todd slid his hand up Alec’s chest, bunching up his shirt.

“Don’t be like that. We used to have a lot of fun together,” Todd said huskily.

Alec pulled away brusquely.

“If you’re looking for fun, why don’t you find Caleb?”

Todd had the gall to look hurt, but he recovered quickly.

“Caleb was just a fling. _We_ weren’t even serious yet. Give me one dance,” he said, holding up a finger and stepping toward Alec again, “and I promise I’ll make it all up to you.”

Alec scoffed.

“You were never serious about me, and I was an idiot for believing you were. You can dance with a pole for all I care. I’m with someone else now, so back off.”

Todd raised both his eyebrows and looked around theatrically.

“Where is he?”

Doubt filled Alec. How long had it been since he’d seen Magnus? Alec _had_ abandoned him for work almost immediately. Maybe he’d been so uncomfortable he’d ditched the first chance he’d gotten. As much as it pained him to admit, they’d only been on a few dates together. Alec had so swiftly been spellbound by all that was strange and sweet about Magnus, but he might have been the only one of them to feel that way.

“I got our martinis!” Magnus said a little too loudly, appearing from nowhere and handing him a drink.

“Magnus!” Gratitude and relief rushed him.

“He’s your date?” Todd interrupted, eyeing Magnus derisively. “He looks like a tax accountant.”

To Alec’s surprise, Magnus retorted before he could.

“I’m a psychic, actually.”

“A quack instead of a bore – big improvement.” Todd dismissed him with a rude gesture.

“You–” Alec began angrily but stopped at the curious glint in Magnus’s eyes. Magnus, in turn, drew himself up to his full height and spoke with all the authority of a prophecy.

“For crossing the high psychic of Brooklyn, I call upon thee a curse of endless wardrobe malfunctions. May your shoelaces snap and your undergarments forever ride up.”

“Ooh scary,” responded Todd, “too bad I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He punctuated this statement by spanking himself cheekily.

Alec was already watching Magnus with fascination, which is how he saw him make the barest movement of his index finger in Todd’s direction, just as he heard a loud ripping sound. Todd again slapped his hands to his backside, but this time in horror. The look he cast Magnus had actual fear in it.

“These were my favourite!” he cried tearfully over his shoulder as he hobbled away awkwardly, not quite successful in hiding the massive split down the back of his shorts. In his rush to escape, he bumped into several other partygoers, who turned to stare or laugh increduously.

“How did you do that?” Alec asked Magnus, awed.

Magnus clasped both hands together over the stem of the cocktail glass he was holding.

“Trade secret,” he said cryptically. “Just a little party trick.”

Alec set their drinks aside, untouched, and pulled Magnus close using his belt hoops. He swayed with him in time to the music. Magnus’s movements in following Alec held an unforeseen grace and purpose.

Magnus was continually surprising Alec. Though Todd had been brazen and rude, Magnus had handled the entire situation with maturity and ease. Alec doubted that he’d have been able to keep his cool in Magnus’s place.

“Thanks for saving me from my evil ex. If it were me meeting your ex, I’d probably have just sulked uselessly.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re my first date, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Alec felt absurdly pleased in spite of himself.

“I kind of want you to meet all my exes now,” Alec said and paused. “Is that weird?”

Magnus laughed, setting something aflutter in Alec’s stomach.

“At the bar, I met another of your exes – Ms. Chleo. She sends her regards.”

Alec blinked.

“You didn’t curse her, did you?”

Magnus laughed even more freely, saying, “no, I liked her. I’ll save my curses for the evil ones.”

Another couple bumped into them, cutting off Magnus’s laughter. They were wrapped so impossibly tight around each other, that they’d begun slipping into each other’s clothes. At the sight of them, Magnus began looking self-conscious again and shifted the slightest bit away from Alec.

“I want you to be happy,” Alec blurted suddenly, “but I feel like I’m always making you uncomfortable.”

Magnus regarded him, mouth slightly agape. Alec tried not to think about how it felt to kiss him. After a long moment of quiet consideration, Magnus stilled in Alec’s hold.

Alec felt the warmth of his body as he pressed against him and said in his ear, “I don’t want to be comfortable any longer.”

Magnus’s breath tickled his skin. He shivered and leaned back to take in this bold new Magnus. Every time he thought he’d started to figure him out, he revealed a new side to himself.

Now his eyes were filled with an urgency that froze the air in Alec’s lungs, but the kiss Magnus met him with meant he no longer cared whether he caught his breath again.

 _No_ , he thought distantly. This feeling definitely wasn’t comfortable. As Magnus’s hands ran up his neck to grab fistfuls of hair and pull his mouth harder against his, Alec groaned and stumbled against him. The taste and feel of Magnus that he was still learning sent his head spinning. He was nearly nauseous with inertia.

Falling so fast was never comfortable, but he never wanted it otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you got the joke with Ms. Chleo's drag name.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is still trying to figure out Magnus, while Magnus just wants to keep him safe as tensions in the city continue to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of buildup, but I promise there's a point to it all.

[Song: Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I)

Isabelle Lightwood was kneeling on the floor of her new apartment, rummaging through a box of tangled cables and computer parts.

“Tell me again why Simon insisted you move in with him right before he disappears to go on tour?” Alec asked as he set down a second box beside her.

“He didn’t know at the time, Alec,” she sighed. “It’s a great opportunity for Simon. The Mortal Instruments might never get another chance like this.”

“You’re sure he didn’t do it just so he could get out of helping you move?” he teased, nudging her box with his foot.

Isabelle swatted at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. Truthfully, she was feeling more than a little deflated by Simon’s sudden departure.

“You could always stay at home with us until Simon gets back,” Alec suggested kindly.

“Thanks, but mom and dad are finally okay with me moving out. It would feel weird going back now, like admitting they were right. And besides,” she said, trying for cheerfulness, “this way I feel like I’m closer to him, even if he’s not here.”

Alec flopped onto the couch and said casually, “well, I can always come over if you get lonely.”

Izzy smirked at him.

“You’re only saying that because Magnus lives nearby.”

“Slander!” he said in mock outrage. “I’m generously offering my time and company to my little sister living all alone in Brooklyn. If, afterwards, I visit the neighbourhood psychic, that’s purely coincidence.”

“Come on, you keep complaining about it, but you jumped at the opportunity to help me move.”

“Hmm,” Alec said noncommittally as he toyed with one of Simon’s old bass strings, abandoned on the coffee table in haste.

“Alright, what is it?” she demanded, sitting next to Alec. “You couldn’t shut up about Magnus before, but now you get all quiet? Spill.”

Alec set the string down reluctantly.

“I just don’t know what to do when it comes to Magnus. He’s said more than once that he’s scared to be with me, and I don’t want to push him too hard.”

“Scared? Like he’s in the closet and scared of his own gay shadow?”

“He’s bi,” Alec corrected. “And no, it’s not like that. I’ve been with closeted guys before, but Magnus is different. It’s like...” he trailed off uncertainly. “It’s like he’s scared to get too close, but also scared I’ll leave,” he said finally.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about it.” Alec gnawed on his bottom lip, staring off into space.

“What is it you like so much about him anyway?” she asked, curious. She’d never seen her brother agonize so much over someone he was dating.

“He’s super hot and mysterious.”

“Alec! You’re so shallow. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“What do you want me to say, Izzy? I like the way he wears sweaters that were maybe in fashion twenty years ago? That sometimes I can actually believe he’s old like he says, but then he laughs and it changes his whole face? I like how he can be so playful even when he’s guarded? That I feel like I could spend a lifetime trying to know him?” He drew a deep breath.

“Go see him,” she said firmly.

“Did you not hear me just say I don’t want to be too pushy?”

“You won’t get anywhere sitting here _pining_. You’re not helping me unpack anyway, and I’m tired of your lovesick face. Just go see him! You obviously want to.”

No matter how much she missed Simon, she didn’t want to mope around with Alec. Clary, who’d also been caught off-guard by Simon’s tour, would be coming over soon to help with the move, so moping was strictly off-limits. At least Alec could go see Magnus.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

She smiled.

[Song: Bastille - Sleepsong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cuR_Vi6vas)

Magnus stepped into the dilapidated lobby of the Hotel Dumort. Raphael had made some attempt at maintaining the place, but with limited success. The boarded windows hid some of the wreckage in their shadows, but if Magnus squinted he could still see that the furniture was old, often broken, and the rugs threadbare.

As his eyes were still adjusting, Lily Chen appeared directly before him with the silent swiftness of her kind. Even in the semi-darkness he recognized her petite frame and straight, black hair. Or maybe it was a deep purple now? He could never keep up with her ever-changing hair colour.

“Lily, you have to stop doing that,” Magnus admonished. She grinned cheekily at him in response.

“Raphael’s waiting for you in the Blue Room upstairs.”

Her message delivered, she dissolved back into the darkness as quickly as she’d come. He was on friendly terms with Raphael’s clan, but Lily, his second-in-command, was the exception. She seemed to enjoy tormenting Magnus. Perhaps she’d just been cranky at having to greet him during the day when most vampires would be sleeping. Most vampires except Raphael, apparently.

Using his phone as a flashlight, Magnus made his way upstairs alone, wondering what had possessed Raphael to want to meet so early, and in the Blue Room of all places.

When he reached the open doorway, his stomach churned. It looked much as it had sixty years ago when he’d first met Raphael, a fledgling vampire baptized in blood. For slaughtering his friends, Raphael had killed his own vampire Sire, an incredible act for one newly Turned, but Raphael had always been exceptionally strong-willed. Expansive blue ceiling and sky, visible through a hole in the roof, still looked down on the battered and bloodstained room. Only now, the bloodstains were ruddy brown and missing the bodies that had made them. Raphael had made efforts to restore other parts of the hotel, but only this room, covered in the old, dried blood of his dead friends, he left untouched.

Raphael stood in the middle of the room, hand outstretched beneath the sunlight piercing through the high ceiling.

Magnus darted forward, pulling his hand out of the sun’s rays, wincing at the raw-looking burn Raphael had inflicted on himself. Blisters had even begun to form.

“What are you doing? How long have you been standing here to give yourself a burn this bad?” He felt his magic stir and itched to soothe his friend’s angry red skin.

Raphael seemed a little dazed, lost in thought. “I come here when I need to remember why I do all this.”

“ _Here?_ Why would you want to remember such a horrible day?”

“It was horrible, yes, but I did not only lose people that day. I gained you.” He looked at Magnus steadily. “You were the one who showed me I was not damned. You showed me I could still stand beneath the light, just here.”

Magnus looked away.

“I didn’t know how else to convince you. It was a bit of a trick, really, since you would have gotten much more than a sunburn if you had been Turned before the Decline.”

“No, I do not believe it was a trick,” he said slowly. “I have been thinking a great deal since this business with the wolves. What we lost in demonic strength we have regained in humanity.”

Unconsciously, he touched the gold cross he always wore about his neck.

“Because you can walk in the sun if you wish? Because vampires and werewolves now easily control their urges and couldn’t Turn someone if they tried?” Magnus asked. _Because I lost my magic?_ he thought. Not that that had lasted.

“Those are only the symptoms. What if what truly happened after the Sealing was not a Decline of Downworlder powers but our souls slowly returning to us?” Raphael’s eyes were dark and bottomless, fixing Magnus in place. “I have been thinking you saved me twice – once on the worst day of my life, and once before I ever met you.”

Magnus cleared his throat.

“If I had truly been able to save you, Louis Karnstein would never have Turned you almost two hundred years after the beginning of the Decline.”

Raphael took his hand in his burnt one, which was slowly healing itself, but not as quickly as it should have, would have a few hundred years ago.

“Louis Karnstein was old and powerful. You could not help that. But you did save me,” he said with conviction. Though Raphael was the one with the burn, Magnus’s hand felt feverishly hot against his cool, vampire’s skin. “I make again the promise I made to you all those years ago. Whenever you need me, I will be there. For the life you twice returned to me, I will do all in my power to protect you.”

Raphael was rarely so earnest. Magnus pulled away uncomfortably.

“Why did you call me here today? I’m sure it was not only to reminisce on the past.”

Raphael redressed himself, suddenly all business.

“You are right. Come with me. I have some things to show you.”

Mercifully, they left the Blue Room, and Raphael led him back to his suite. Once there, he handed Magnus something small and paper-thin from his desk. By the light of the lamp Raphael lit for him, Magnus examined the ordinary looking leaf in his hand. On the back, a delicate flowing script read, _The Queen of the Seelie Court extends an invitation to her realm_.

“It’s never good news when the Seelie Queen expresses an interest,” Magnus said after a time.

“I know. That is why I am not going.”

“I would advise against that. She’s not accustomed to rejection.”

“I am not accepting or rejecting her invitation. She did not send a messenger, so I am leaving it be for the moment. What I want to know is why? Why now of all times when faeries have had so little to do with the rest of us since the Decline?”

“I don’t know. She’s always had her own reasons. She could be after anything. Maybe she’s just looking for a new lover,” Magnus replied breezily.

Raphael looked at him oddly.

“Then I will certainly not be going,” he said irritably.

“There is also this,” he continued, tucking the leaf away and producing an entire folder of missing persons reports. Magnus flipped through them as Raphael spoke, knowing better than to ask how Raphael had gotten hold of them. “There are a growing number of humans gone missing near Chinatown.”

“And you think the werewolves are responsible?”

Magnus paused on a report detailing a woman who was last seen at the same restaurant where Alec had taken him for their first date. Luckily, they hadn’t been to Chinatown on any of their more recent dates, and he’d spoken with Alec on the phone only a few hours earlier, but he couldn’t quell his worry for him. Perhaps he could secretly use his magic to offer him some form of protection.

“I cannot be sure. I have my vampires searching for the missing, for traces of blood, but so far nothing. I am just telling you to be careful.”

“Raphael, I’m the warlock who ended a demonic war, if you’ll remember. I think I can handle werewolves.”

“A warlock without any magic, which is worse than the average. Most warlocks can at least make a few sparks for distraction. Your only weapon is giving awful fortunes.”

Magnus couldn’t spend any time with Raphael these days without being reminded of the secrets he was keeping.

Raphael continued, “look, if you feel the need to take any stupid risks, tell me first. That way I can at least give you a bodyguard.”

“When have I ever taken any undue risks?”

Raphael tossed his head back and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“When you are not too busy living your boring life as a cat hermit, you have been known to get involved in more than a few disastrous situations. Just come to me, whatever it is, and do not try to handle it all on your own, Bane, or I will have Lily follow you everywhere.”

“Alright, alright, I will. There’s no need to resort to threats. Besides, Lily might start a revolt next if you try it.”

Their business settled, they had a much more pleasant conversation over tea, in Magnus’s case, and blood, in Raphael’s. After Raphael had fed, he swiftly fell asleep in his chair. Seeing his friend’s drawn face, brow still furrowed, he realized how hard Raphael must have been pushing himself these past weeks.

He used magic to move him to the bed, which was surprisingly intact for the Dumort, murmuring spells of rest and healing, finally able to soothe the lingering burn from his hand. Raphael’s facial muscles relaxed. He seemed almost a stranger in sleep, younger. It reminded Magnus of the time he’d cared for Raphael after he’d been Turned, when he was still lost and reconciling his beliefs with his new identity. Gently, he brushed the dark curls from his face. Something he’d never dare attempt if Raphael were awake.

“Sleep well, Raphael,” he said softly, as he made his way from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec gets frustrated with Magnus's secrets but ends up discovering more than he can process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might recognize part of this~
> 
> Also, I successfully defended my thesis today! Yay! More time for fiction writing :)

[Song: SYML - Body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXyYfnN2Os8)

On a lazy afternoon, Alec was sprawled out on Magnus’s bed with him. He should have been happier about it, but he was frustrated. Their relationship had barely progressed since the first date, and he still had no idea what was going on with Magnus – the mysteriousness that had initially drawn him in beginning to make him crazy. Magnus seemed to like him. He definitely seemed to like kissing him, but Alec had learned to be careful about trying anything more.

One night, after a party, they’d found themselves at Magnus’s apartment. They’d been kissing when Alec slid a hand beneath Magnus’s outdated sweater, feeling the flat plane of his stomach. Magnus had reacted instantly, but not in the way Alec wanted. He’d jerked away, wide-eyed. Alec had apologized and tried asking about it, but Magnus wouldn’t even meet his eyes for a while afterward.

Another time, Alec had hugged him from behind. Magnus had jumped, sending a static shock through them both as he excused himself, which he often did whenever Alec showed even the slightest physical affection. Alec was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of digestive issue.

Even worse, Alec was beginning to realize there were a great many taboo subjects with Magnus. The more time he spent with him, the less he felt he knew him. Magnus would happily talk about his job, his cats, or his time with Alec, but he dodged everything involving his past or personal life. Alec knew nothing about when or where he was born, his family, or even if he had one. Beyond the strange encounter with Matt Jensen, he’d learned nothing about his friends either.

As mysterious as he was, Magnus had a sweet vulnerability about him, and Alec was earnestly trying not to shatter the trust he’d managed to build. At least he was currently comfortable cuddling, Alec thought ruefully.

He played idly with Magnus’s hair, sticking up in all directions from their earlier make out session.

“Have you ever thought of spiking your hair?” Magnus looked up at him, horrified. “It was just a suggestion,” he chuckled.

“I’ll leave the bold fashion choices to you and hedgehogs,” he replied, settling back against Alec’s shoulder.

Alec buried his grin in Magnus’s hair and squeezed him affectionately.

While caught in his embrace, Magnus’s fingers chanced upon a patch of skin just above Alec’s low rise jeans. Alec expected him to shy away from the contact, but instead Magnus began languorously tracing figure after figure over the same spot. Alec barely dared breathe for fear of dissuading him.

He inhaled sharply when Magnus unexpectedly chased the hollow of his hip-bone into his waistband. Magnus took in his reaction, all curiosity.

“Can I touch you more?”

“Please, _yes_ ,” Alec said, thrilled that Magnus was making a move.

Shifting until he was kneeling over him, Magnus took the fabric of Alec’s shirt between his fingers, glancing up at him for permission. He barely waited for Alec’s nod before fumbling clumsily with his shirt buttons. Alec steadied and helped him with the last few but lowered his hands and waited once the last came undone.

Past hesitating, Magnus parted the fabric, baring Alec’s torso beneath his devouring gaze. Warm hands glided across his chest and traced his ribs. Alec shivered at the feather-light touch.

“You don’t have a single mark on you. Your skin is completely flawless.” He looked faraway and longing.

“Magnus?”

Magnus’s eyes darkened as he bent to taste the valley beneath his ribcage. Alec’s resolution to hold back and let Magnus explore his body crumbled. This man was going to drive him mad. He tangled fingers in Magnus’s hair as his stomach muscles contracted. Magnus began kissing more urgently, arching down in a line around his navel to his hip.

When he reached the hollow he’d been teasing earlier, Alec felt teeth bite down hard and hold fast. He hissed and convulsed against the sweet sting of it, pinning Magnus with his knees.

Magnus relinquished his hold, leaving behind a pair of rugged, crescent imprints in Alec’s flesh. He gazed unseeingly up at him, lips glistening.

“What was that?” Alec asked gruffly.

“I– I wanted to leave a mark.”

He began to withdraw abashedly, but Alec drew him close instead.

“It’s alright, Magnus.”

He meant to reassure him with a simple kiss, but the heat between them ignited. Each breath traded for kisses became more needful than the last. Magnus’s hands had found his skin again, much bolder than before. Alec seized him by the haunches and pulled him further into himself.

He reached hungrily for another kiss, but Magnus had catapulted from his arms with a startled sound. Concealing his eyes with a hand, he turned away, breathing raggedly.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Alec asked, gathering himself.

“No, of course not. It’s nothing,” he said unevenly.

“Magnus, look at me.” There was no answer. “Magnus–”

“I can’t, Alec. I just– I can’t.”

Alec’s frustration boiled over into anger as he got up, buttoning his shirt. His side prickled hotly where he’d been bitten.

“You can’t? Just like you couldn’t date me? Or is it like how you can’t tell me where you’re from or who your parents are or anything about yourself really even though we’ve been dating for over a month?”

Magnus’s back tensed, but he said nothing in defense of himself.

“I’ve tried to be patient, but every time it feels like I might actually get close to you, you immediately shut me out, and I’m so done with it. With all of it.”

He made to storm out, but Magnus grabbed his arm, finally looking at him in anguish. For a moment, there seemed something unusual about his eyes. Alec decided that the afternoon light must have temporarily caught in them, because the longer he looked, all he could see was the familiar warm amber-brown colour of them.

“Don’t go, Alexander,” he pleaded.

Magnus had a way of saying his name – his full name, which no one else ever used – that gave him pause. Alec sat back down obediently, his anger spent.

“Then talk to me,” he said wearily.

Magnus closed his eyes as if in pain. When he opened them again, they were raw.

“I was born in what you would call Indonesia. My father–” he faltered.

Placing peculiar emphasis on the words, he continued with resolve, “My father is a demon that raped my mother. When I was nine, she realized what I was. She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d given birth to the son of a demon, so she took her own life.” He stopped to gauge Alec’s reaction apprehensively, as if deciding whether to continue.

Alec sat there, shocked at the revelation.

“I– I’m so sorry, Magnus.”

The apology felt grossly inadequate. Magnus seemed to think so too, remaining silently expectant, pained expression still frozen on his face. Alec wanted to say something, anything, to take that pain away, fully ashamed of his earlier outburst. Fuck, no wonder Magnus hadn’t wanted to talk about his past.

“I’m sorry for all that you and your mother had to go through. You can’t think any of it is your fault.”

Magnus watched him with the flash of a new and timid hope, spurring Alec to keep going.

“Your father is a horrible, horrible person.”

His expression changed. Alec realized too late he’d made a mistake as Magnus’s face closed off completely.

“Are you close with him?” He thought perhaps he’d misjudged the relationship Magnus had with his father.

“We’ve met. Once was enough to know I never want a repeat encounter.” Magnus said tonelessly.

“What did you do after that?” Alec asked, distressed that Magnus was shutting him out again. “If you were nine, you would still have been just a boy.”

“A brotherhood took me in until I was old enough to live on my own.”

Magnus was still answering his questions, but his words rang hollow. He’d finally opened up, and Alec had unknowingly ruined it.

“I think you should go now,” Magnus said quietly.

Alec reached for his hand, and when Magnus didn’t pull away he said, “I’m sorry. God, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I never meant to hurt you.”

Magnus shook his head sadly.

“You’re not to blame, Alexander, for any of it. You must believe that, if nothing else. I shouldn’t have stopped you from leaving. You had every right. It’s only my own foolish selfishness that’s keeping you here.”

Alec took Magnus’s face in his free hand.

“I’m here because I want to be. Someday I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me all of it. All of whatever’s hurting you and holding you back. So don’t give up on me yet.”

Magnus closed his eyes and leaned against Alec’s palm.

“Thank you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus attends Isabelle's housewarming party and meets the gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering what happened to all the werewolves we know and love from the main series - they're all there. They're just human because there was never the possibility of them being Turned in this world.

[Song: Flume - Say It (feat. Tove Lo) (Illenium Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80AlC3LaPqQ)

“I think this is a bad idea after all, Alexander,” Magnus said nervously as they walked through Brooklyn. “I’ll just be out of place.”

“Magnus,” Alec said patiently, “you’re my _boyfriend_. Of course you belong at my sister’s housewarming party.”

After the incident with the biting and the glamour over his eyes slipping, Magnus had resolved to be a little more honest with Alec. At least about how he felt. So, when Alec had asked him to ‘officially be his boyfriend,’ he’d agreed without overthinking it, but he still wasn’t quite used to hearing it said out loud. He was unsure how long their relationship could last, whether Alec would discover his secrets or grow tired of him first. He only knew that the time he spent with him had become terrifyingly precious.

Fiddling with the handles of the gift bag he was carrying, Magnus said, “but I don’t know Isabelle or any of your friends.”

“When else are you planning on getting to know them? We’ve been over this. Izzy specifically asked for you to come – she wants to meet you properly this time. And since Simon’s still on tour, she just wants a small gathering, very casual. Besides, don’t you already know Clary?”

“Not really. Unless you count giving someone a reading and attending a party with them as knowing them.”

“Strange she would invite you after just one meeting.”

“Yes, she was quite strange, definitely not a typical client, like someone else I know,” Magnus said pointedly, giving Alec some side-eye.

Catching his look, Alec smiled.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad I got to meet you because of it.”

In the spirit of being more honest, Magnus tentatively slipped a hand in Alec’s.

“Me too.”

Alec wove his fingers through Magnus’s securely. Magnus’s magic stirred sluggishly, but he’d already used a good deal of it before leaving his apartment, and he kept it firmly under control. He wanted no magical accidents tonight. Their linked hands eased his fears as they walked the rest of the way to Izzy’s large brick apartment building.

Once there, Magnus began fidgeting again.

Alec said, “you’ll be fine,” and rang the bell.

They found Isabelle waiting for them at the door. She wore large square-framed glasses and what looked like one of Simon’s old t-shirts with ‘Champagne Enema’ inexplicably written across the front. She was practically bouncing in excitement.

“Magnus! Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you, especially after hearing Alec go on and on about you forever.”

“Hi to you too, Iz. Thanks for that,” Alec said wryly.

Magnus flushed at the warm reception.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Isabelle. Here,” he said, handing her the gift bag he’d been carrying, “a housewarming gift to welcome you to the neighbourhood.”

“Oh my god, thank you, Magnus. That’s so thoughtful of you,” she said as she opened the bag to reveal a mug with a blue crest and raven depicted on it.

“How did you know I’m a Ravenclaw!” she exclaimed, looking accusingly at Alec, who fended off the look.

“I had nothing to do with it,” he said.

“I would be a terrible psychic if I didn’t know at least that much,” Magnus added mischievously.

Greetings exchanged, they filed inside. Alec disappeared into the kitchen while Isabelle settled Magnus in the living room. Unfamiliar EDM played in the background. Posters and prints of superheroes adorned the walls. There was the spider one, the bat one, and several other man-animal hybrids in tights he didn’t recognize.

Isabelle and Simon certainly had unique taste, he thought, feeling increasingly out of place. He pushed aside a pillow shaped like a blue phone-booth to sit on the sofa next to a curvy, curly-haired girl that Isabelle introduced as Maia. 

“How do you know Isabelle?” Magnus asked, trying to make conversation.

“Jordan, my boyfriend, is in the same band as Simon, Izzy’s boyfriend,” she replied. “We bonded over their terrible choice in band names before they finally settled on The Mortal Instruments.”

The name was an uncomfortable coincidence as far as Magnus could tell. Even the Downworld had largely forgotten the Shadowhunters’ three ancient relics. Like the Shadowhunters themselves, they’d lost their purpose, long locked away in the abandoned city of glass.

He was relieved that Maia, at least, appeared to be a regular human. Alec had far too many friends of Nephilim descent as it was, coincidences piling atop one another. It was also somewhat reassuring that he wasn’t the only person of colour attending the party.

“Izzy said you met Alec at the Institute’s Mad Hatter party?” Maia asked politely.

“That’s right,” he said awkwardly, hoping he wouldn’t be asked to elaborate.

Magnus was saved from answering any further questions. Back from the kitchen, Alec sunk down on his other side and offered him a beer. It was some sort of local, craft, seasonal, berry brew. Not that Magnus differentiated much between beer. But Alec seemed to enjoy it, and he was grateful to have something to sip on. Isabelle and Maia had been friendly and welcoming, but he still felt incongruous among such young, human company.

The last to arrive were Clary and Jace. Magnus immediately recognized the petite redhead and the showy blonde but received an introduction anyway.

“Magnus, this is Clary and Jace, though I suppose you already know Clary,” Isabelle said.

“Only ever so slightly,” he replied, extending his hand to her. Truthfully, he didn’t know her at all, only the alternate, Shadowhunter version of herself.

Taking his hand, Clary said sheepishly, “sorry if I don’t know much about how we met. I really don’t remember that day at all.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Biscuit,” he said, “we can just start over.”

Next, he offered his hand to apparently-Jace, who gripped it rather hard and mumbled something unintelligible.

With everyone there, the party began in earnest. Alec made an effort to include him in all their conversations, explaining references when he didn’t understand, but Magnus couldn’t relax.

It didn’t help that he caught Jace glaring at him periodically through the night. As a result, he found he quickly sipped his way through a number of Alec’s beer, sinking further down the couch and into Alec’s side. Throwing an arm around him, Alec didn’t seem to mind.

He’d just finished another beer and was beginning to miss the sour haskap taste. He couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t noticed it before. This beer was great.

Alec saw him contemplating his empty drink.

“Do you want me to get you another one?” he asked.

“No, no, you sit,” he said, patting a bemused Alec on the head.

He glided to the kitchen and dug around the overstuffed fridge. When he found another of Alec’s beer tucked beneath a large bag of kale, he grabbed it and straightened up with a slight wobble. Perhaps he was feeling it a little more than he’d originally thought. Before meeting Alec, it had been literally ages since he’d had alcohol.

He was surprised to find Jace standing behind him, regarding him suspiciously.

“What exactly are you after?” he demanded from the doorway.

Raising the bottle he’d successfully scavenged from the fridge, Magnus said, “beer – I thought that was obvious.”

He tried to leave, but Jace blocked his path and made an impatient noise.

“I mean from Alec.”

“At the moment, the answer to that is, again, clearly beer.”

“Enough with the beer!” Jace said angrily. “Clary meets you once, gets you into an exclusive party, and doesn’t remember any of it. Then Alec goes to one of your freaky psychic things and suddenly he’s all serious about you?”

Magnus’s stomach knotted.

“What exactly are you implying?”

“That I see through you, ‘Magnus Bane,’ if that is your real name. Clary’s my girlfriend, and Alec’s like a brother to me. You can’t just come in here and hypnotize everyone.”

“You think I _hypnotized_ them?” Magnus asked incredulously. “I’m a psychic, not a hypnotist.”

“Whatever,” Jace countered lamely. “I don’t know how you bewitched them or what you’re after–”

“If anyone is bewitched it’s me,” Magnus interrupted. “This is the second party I’ve been dragged to since I met your friends and, believe me, I’d much rather be at home with my cats. I wouldn’t be here for anyone but Alec.”

Jace worked his jaw.

“You better not be lying. If you hurt Alec, I swear–”

Magnus threw back his head and laughed, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. Ever since he met Alec he’d been tortured with thoughts of him leaving.

“If only you knew how backwards you have it.”

He might have said more, a testament to how much he’d already had to drink, but Alec appeared over Jace’s shoulder before he could.

“Do you need help finding the beer?”

Jace shifted aside uncomfortably.

Alec, sensing the tense atmosphere, asked, “what’s going on? Did something happen?”

Magnus forced a smile and lied, “Jace was just telling me how he agonized for months before asking Clary out over coffee at the food truck. I found it a little more amusing than he did.”

Jace’s eyes widened. He really didn’t have a handle on how this whole psychic business worked.

Alec seemed oblivious to Jace’s alarm at having his past read.

“Oh, well I’m glad you’re getting to know each other.”

[Song: Illenium - Fractures (feat. Nevve)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCu2gwLj9ok)

They rejoined the others, and the rest of the night passing without incident, though Magnus slowed down on the beer after the unpleasant confrontation with Jace. He was more or less sober by the time Alec walked him home.

“Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m glad you got to meet my friends, and Izzy loves the mug you gave her,” Alec said, gaze fond when he tilted his head to glance up at Magnus.

Magnus hesitated only a moment before fishing a small box from his pocket and presenting it to Alec. It was probably a bad idea, but everything about his relationship with Alec was a bad idea. And he found he didn’t care as much as he did before. Not when he felt warm just from Alec’s words.

“I have something for you too, actually.”

“What’s this for?” Alec asked, taken by surprise.

“It’s for you. Just open it.”

Alec complied and lifted a long, silver chain from the box, examining it by the light of a nearby streetlamp. He traced the fluting lines of the matching pendant, transfixed.

“This symbol...”

“It’s called an Enkeli, or the Angelic rune. It’s part of an ancient runic language said to be used by the angels.”

“It looks almost familiar.” Magnus’s heart skipped a beat, and he struggled to keep the emotion from his face. “What’s it for?”

“Warriors used to mark themselves with it to ward off demons and protect themselves in battle. It’s a charm to keep you safe.”

That last was true enough, though the Enkeli itself was merely symbolic. Magnus couldn’t mark Alec as another Shadowhunter might, but this gift was his own way of protecting him, of giving him his first rune. He’d chosen silver for the material as a deterrent against werewolves, but far more effective was the enchantment he’d placed upon it. He’d used ancient ingredients: a mixture of faerie dust, preserved demon ichor, and powerful ritual magic. He’d poured everything he had into making it, and in their world of decline, it was the sort of object that would be priceless on the Shadow Market.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this, Magnus,” Alec said, finally looking up and reaching for his hand again. Magnus gave it willingly after slipping the chain over his head.

“Wearing it is thanks enough. You’ve given me so much, Alexander. Let me do this for you.”

Alec kissed him lightly but squeezed his hand a little harder.

“Alright, then – thank you.”

They resumed their late-night stroll through Brooklyn’s streets, Magnus’s pocket feeling immeasurably lighter, but worry still nagged at him.

“Alexander, how do you know Clary Fray?”

“‘Fray’? Is that like when you called her ‘Biscuit’? Should I be jealous that you only give nicknames to Clary?” Alec frowned up at him. “The Lightwoods have known the Morgensterns for generations. We’re practically family.”

Magnus stumbled, but Alec caught him before he could fully faceplant.

“Woah, I wondered if your newfound taste for haskap beer was affecting you. Are you alright?”

Magnus had never considered that Clary’s name might not be the same as her alternate self, that she could also have a Shadowhunter name.

“What is Jace’s full name?”

“What?” Alec asked, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Jace. What’s his family name?” Magnus repeated with urgency.

“Now it’s Henderson,” Alec said slowly.

“Now?”

“Jace grew up in the foster system. He’s had a few names, but he was eventually adopted by the Hendersons. That’s when I met him. Before, I think he was... a Harris?”

Jace’s mundane name was scarcely comforting. It was already too worrisome that two Shadowhunter names survived in families so closely tied to each other, especially when it was just the latest in a string of coincidences. He had no idea what it could mean, but somehow he’d found himself in the middle of it, as usual.

“Magnus, maybe you should sit down.”

Magnus straightened at the look of concern Alec was showing him. He’d have time to investigate the Lightwoods and Morgensterns later. There was no need to worry Alec in the meantime.

“Sorry, I was just dizzy for a moment. Must have been the alcohol.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I forgot I put haskap beer in this story, haha. If anyone's wondering, it's basically a little joke with myself. We have a small haskap berry farm, and even though I've never had a haskap beer, I thought it would be a niche, hipster-type thing to drink at a house party. Haskap wine is great though, for the record.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary invites Magnus for coffee. Magnus gets some tea and more information than he'd hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update's a bit short, but the next couple are going to be big ones. This chapter was tricky to find a song for, but I think the vibe fits. Plus I like the song, ha.

[Song: Sasha Sloan - Older](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1Fx0tqK5Z4)

Magnus entered the new, hip cafe. The building was near his apartment, but he’d never set foot in it before. He searched the crowded benches for a glimpse of Clary’s distinctive red hair.

He’d been acting out of character often these days. Just the sight of so many mortals made him anxious. But he did have a good reason for frequenting a place he’d normally avoid like vampire vomit. A couple days ago, Clary had texted asking to meet with him. His instinct had been to invent an excuse and refuse politely, but he still had some unanswered questions about the Lightwoods and Morgensterns. He didn’t want to worry Alec again after the other night, and Clary’s invitation to coffee provided him with the perfect alternate source of information.

Having failed to spot Clary (who was difficult to miss), he ordered a brown rice green tea. When his order came, he sat at the bar, sipping it grudgingly. He preferred his own tea at home. It didn’t cost him three dollars a cup either.

He’d done some research into Alec’s family on his own, but he’d found frustratingly little in terms of an explanation. As far as Magnus could recall, the Lightwoods and Morgensterns had never been particularly close. But he’d found documents from the New York Public Library showing that in the time after the Purge, both families had immigrated to North America on the same ship. Magnus had scanned the ship’s logs for a complete list of that voyage’s passengers. There were Hoods and Popperts, Dalys and Tanners, but no other recognizable Shadowhunter names, only the Lightwoods and Morgensterns.

Once in America, the two families appeared to maintain close ties. Alec hadn’t been kidding when he said they’d known each other for generations. There was just no self-evident reason as to why – what bound them together for centuries, and how they’d kept their names in the first place. So, frustrated with opaque historical documents, he’d decided to find out what he could from Clary.

There was a tap on his shoulder and a, “hi Magnus,” from behind him. He turned to find Clary, her fiery hair pulled back, flecks of bright paint splattered in it and across her face. It made her appear even more colourful than usual.

“Hi Clary,” Magnus replied. “Just coming from class?”

“I guess it’s kind of obvious,” she laughed, rubbing at a stray patch of paint on her wrist. She ordered herself an Americano and settled her books and bag around the stool next to Magnus’s.

“Thanks for meeting up with me today. I really wanted to talk to you after the party,” Clary said.

“What a coincidence, so did I.”

Clary faced him, looking embarrassed.

“Magnus, I want to apologize for what Jace said to you that night.”

Magnus was caught off-guard.

“Jace told you...?”

“I could tell something had happened, so I sort of forced it out of him. Jace was completely out of line and had no reason to suspect you of anything.”

“Well, thanks for saying so, Clary, but it’s hardly for you to apologize.”

“Jace regrets saying what he did too. He has trouble trusting people sometimes. I hope you’ll give him another chance.” She was so earnest in her posture and her words that Magnus found himself wanting to forgive Jace, despite the still sour memory of their last encounter. “You’re hardly to blame for me losing my memory, and anyone who knows Alec can see how crazy he is about you.”

Magnus temporarily forgot his purpose in meeting with Clary, the questions he’d carefully crafted. He had too many new questions.

“You think Alexander’s crazy about me?”

“Are you kidding me? As a psychic, shouldn’t you know that already?”

As a matter of fact, he didn’t know it. He searched her expression through freckles and paint splatters. Whatever the truth, Clary was convinced of Alec’s feelings for him.

“Even if I can see how it’ll all end, it doesn’t mean I can see everything.”

“End? You can’t be thinking of the end when you’ve only just started going out...”

Clary sounded more upset than he would have thought possible.

“Alexander said it himself. His relationships never last long,” he said lightly.

“And you’re okay with that?” Clary demanded.

Magnus became very interested in the contents of his mug. Tiny tea leaf fragments at the bottom swirled about hypnotically. He suspected that when they settled they would portend the doom of his relationship.

“Magnus, that might have been true in the past, but Alec doesn’t think of it that way.” Magnus looked up at her. Smiling, Clary held his gaze and continued gently, “I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. He might try to pass himself off as this carefree party boy, but he does care. A lot.”

“I know,” Magnus said finally. “He’s attentive and kind, fiercely protective, and honest almost to a fault...”

Magnus didn’t like the knowing grin Clary was giving him. He remembered his initial reason for being there.

“Speaking of how long you’ve known Alec, your families seem pretty inseparable.”

If Clary was thrown off by the sudden change of subject, she didn’t let on, just taking a moment to consider. Small mercies. He couldn’t handle being called out on it right now.

“They are. Izzy’s always been my best girl friend, and Alec’s almost as much of an older brother to me as my actual brother.”

“You have a brother?”

“Jonathan,” she said. “You haven’t met him because he’s away at Harvard. He wants to follow the Lightwoods into law, and he’s annoyingly perfect.”

He asked a few more questions about Clary’s brother but only listened with half an ear as she explained how Jonathan had left Alec with strict big brother duties while he was away. Magnus was used to subtly steering conversations during his psychic readings, but for the information he needed now, he knew he’d have to be direct with his line of questioning.

 “So what brought you and the Lightwoods together, initially?”

“As far as I know it’s always been that way. Before I was born, when my parents were hit hard by the financial crash in the eighties, it was the Lightwoods who bailed them out. We’ve always been like family. We even share a housekeeper,” she laughed.

Magnus was unsure what he’d been hoping for. It had been a long shot that Clary would have knowledge pertaining to the time immediately after the Purge.

“I see,” Magnus said, discouraged but forcing a smile anyway.

“There’s a funny thing our housekeeper used to tell me, actually,” Clary said dreamily, eyes wandering past Magnus to somewhere along the textured ceiling. “I used to get these terrible nightmares when I was little, of monsters with horns and pincers, poison and slime...”

Clary shook herself as if trying to dispel the memory.

“She would tuck me into bed and tell me not to be scared, because they were only memories from long ago. She said that the Morgensterns and Lightwoods were ancient warriors who had fought together to defeat all the monsters, so that I, and everyone else, could sleep safe.”

Magnus forced himself to breathe evenly, concealing his excitement.

“Silly isn’t?” Clary asked, coming back to the present.

“Not at all. It sounds like she took great care of you.” All that was left was to tease the housekeeper’s identity out of her. “I think Alec mentioned her before – what was her name again?”

“Ms. Daly, Bridget Daly.”

In his mind, Magnus went over the passenger list of the ship the Lightwoods and Morgensterns had taken to North America. There had been a Daly. He’d found it, the clue he’d been searching for.

The conversation moved on to other matters as they finished their drinks. Magnus tried to stay focused – he certainly owed Clary his time at the least – but he couldn’t help wondering where Ms. Daly fit in the puzzle and whether he could pay her a visit without Alec’s knowledge.

After they said their goodbyes, Magnus left feeling lighter than he had in a while. Though his questions had only multiplied, he finally had the promise of answers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the trouble that's been brewing begins to boil to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of violence.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the rom-com chapters while they lasted!

[Song: Ruelle - Hold Your Breath](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3BPLzPOCxo)

It was late. Izzy was walking home alone after a night out with Clary. Clary had been inviting her out a lot, for which Izzy was grateful. She’d been spending too much of her time between the Institute and her empty apartment. For all Alec’s promise to keep her company, he’d been pretty preoccupied with Magnus lately.

She hadn’t been able to call Simon often either. He was busy too, and their schedules were as opposite as night and day, literally. He’d be performing now, somewhere along the West Coast. Were they still in Oregon? It’d been too long since she’d had an update on the tour. She sent him a few inquiring texts, though it would be several hours before she could expect a reply. She tucked her smartphone away so she wouldn’t keep checking it and kept walking.

She could have taken a cab home, but she felt restless and had wanted to clear her head. She hadn’t been going to kickboxing class nearly enough. She passed few people on the sidewalks and if it weren’t for the steady traffic, it would be almost peaceful. For New York anyway.

She was skirting Prospect Park when she spotted a pale mass, unnaturally white and outlined by the dank ground, through the fence up ahead. She eyed it curiously, still making her way toward it. It was strange. She couldn’t stop squinting at it, trying to make it out. Her steps slowed and halted as she realized what she was seeing. Cars continued to rush past unawares.

“That’s a body,” she whispered, horrified.

It was naked, likely male judging by its shape and, she was increasingly certain, lifeless.

She rummaged desperately through her bag for her discarded phone, dropping it several times before she had firm hold of it and began entering her passcode with shaking fingers.

“The proper authorities have already been alerted and are on their way to collect the corpse.”

She whipped around to take in the stranger who’d suddenly spoken behind her. He looked young, perhaps a little older than herself, with dark eyes and hair. Besides the cross he wore on a chain about his neck, he was dressed plainly in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. She might have found him attractive if she were meeting him under different circumstances.

“Who are you?” she asked, panicky.

“You have nothing to fear,” he said taking a step closer, eyes locked on hers.

His voice was deep and soothingly persuasive, with a slight accent. She felt some of her tension ebb away.

“Come with me,” he said, “I will take you home and you can forget you ever saw anything here tonight.”

He smiled at her kindly. She relaxed more completely and smiled dreamily back at him. She let him take her by the shoulders, entranced by the dark pools of his eyes. What had she been so worried about? He had everything taken care of.

The last embers of her panic flickered and sparked to life again at the absurdity of the situation. She stepped back abruptly, breaking free of his hold on her.

“I don’t even know you! And you can’t just tell me to forget about a dead body... How do I know you weren’t the one who killed him? The murderer always returns to the scene of the crime, right? Shit, I–”

His gentle expression vanished and was replaced by one of intense irritation as he cut her off.

“ _Dios_ , I do not have the time for this!”

He grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her forcefully closer to the body. She struggled and hit him in the shoulder ineffectually. She wasn’t weak by any means, but he was immovable.

“Look at it! Are you stupid? Does it look like I killed him?” he asked impatiently.

She looked down at the dead man in spite of herself. His limbs were arranged stiffly, awkwardly, in an approximation of the fetal position. The fence’s iron bars were pressed heavily into his bare back. Stark against the pallor of his flesh were long, deep scratches and ugly bite wounds that could only have been made by a large animal. Most looked as though they had been healing, while a couple on his side and thigh still oozed dark, thick blood.

“What happened to him?” she asked aghast. She’d stopped fighting him, suddenly feeling weirdly detached, the gruesome scene too surreal.

“Mauled by dogs,” he said curtly. He resumed tugging her forward by the arm, taking her past the awful sight. She allowed him to this time, not wanting to linger.

“In Brooklyn?” she asked.

His mouth twisted in displeasure.

“Apparently.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. And where are you taking me? Don’t you have to wait for the police? Even if you didn’t kill that man, how do I know I can trust you? You could be following me home to stalk me, or rape me, and I don’t even know your name–”

“I have absolutely zero interest in raping you, stalking you, or killing you,” he said dryly, “in that order.”

Izzy knew she was babbling now but, as usual when her nerves kicked in, she couldn’t stop.

“That’s exactly what a raping, stalking murderer would say. You can’t just expect me to take your word for it. You’ve been dragging me along for quite a while now, and that’s precisely the kind of aggressive behaviour a predator would have. How can I be sure you didn’t murder that man? Maybe you have a pack of rabid dogs hiding somewhere and you’re taking me there to–”

“Ahh!” he exclaimed vexedly, “do you never stop talking?”

He stopped to face her.

“Listen, I am only going to say this once. First, I have no interest in sex. I never have. Second, I cannot stand dogs of any kind. Third, I am walking you home because I do not want another person missing or dead in my city. And last, my name is Raphael!” he finished with a snap.

Izzy paused. His anger was strangely grounding. It felt much more sincere than the gentle attitude he’d initially taken with her.

“Oh, well then, in that case, I’m Izzy, short for Isabelle, and we should have turned a block ago.”

Raphael threw his hands up in frustration. Now that he was no longer dragging her, she began leading them both in the right direction.

“So you’re asexual, huh?” she said, unable to bear the silence.

“What?” he said, glaring at her.

“It’s nothing to be defensive about. I try to be a good ally, so I know at least a little about asexuality.”

He looked at her blankly.

“Are you aromantic?” she asked conversationally.

“Aromantic?”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“No? Do you have anyone you like then? Or do you just not like labels?”

He tossed his head, avoiding her question.

“Why are you stuck on such an unimportant matter?”

“You definitely do!” she said excitedly. “You like someone. You don’t have to be shy about it. Have you told them how you feel?”

“There is no need,” he said tersely.

“I had no idea how my partner, Simon, felt about me even though he’d been trying to hint about it forever. I only realized when he finally–”

“You talk too much. Has no one told you so?”

“Yes, actually. I tend to talk a lot when I get anxious. I can’t help it. It’s a defense mechanism. And after seeing that body... there’s not much I can do about it, so...”

“Do not be scared.” He said abruptly, holding her gaze. “You have my word that I will do whatever it takes to find those responsible.”

“Isn’t that the police’s job? Weren’t you just the person who called it in?”

“Think of me as the neighbourhood watch. I will handle it.”

There was no trace of a lie in his features, but it was such a strange thing to promise. Raphael was strange. Still, his confidence eased her worries a little. She only hoped it wasn’t misplaced.

“Well, you could certainly talk any attacker to death anyway,” he added.

She laughed a little and continued her steady stream of nervous chatter the rest of the way to her apartment. Raphael made a show of annoyance, but she suspected he didn’t mind it all as much as he pretended.

Taking her keys from her bag, she thanked him and said, “take care while you’re watching the neighbourhood, Raphael.”

He surprised her by smiling slightly.

“Worry about yourself. Try to avoid trouble in the future, Isabelle.”

With that, he backed out of the light encircling her porch and disappeared into the night. She looked after him a little regretfully. He’d grown on her.

She hurried inside, Clary’s contact already pulled up on the screen of her phone. She’d have to do a lot more talking before she could sleep tonight.

[Song: Ruelle - Whose Side Are You On prod. Tommee Profitt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lvxmf43RHnU)

Leona stretched lazily, leaning against the rusted wall of the abandoned warehouse, watching Matt as he moved about restlessly. He was shirtless, as usual. She was beginning to wonder if he even owned a shirt.

“What’s taking him so long?” she asked him.

Matt grunted.

“Cranky-ass vampire’s probably doing it on purpose. Lately he’s been even more difficult than usual.”

They were in neutral territory expecting Raphael Santiago. Leona was curious to meet the vampire leader responsible for her assignment to the city, but she was getting tired of waiting. Of course, Matt didn’t know of her and Praetor Greene’s connection to Raphael. He’d purportedly brought her along as a bodyguard. Matt was more than capable of protecting himself, but he’d taken quite a liking to her and often invited her out on patrol or other errands to keep him company.

At least she had Matt’s favour. She hadn’t had much luck endearing herself to many werewolves under the age of thirty. She’d met a few in passing, but after the confrontation with Erik, none of them except Callie seemed to want anything to do with her. And though some of the older werewolves grumbled about the Decline, lamenting that they hadn’t needed to hide or tiptoe around humans in the time when demons roamed the earth, when they had use of their full power, none of them did more than grumble.

She’d even tried following this one girl, Trish, but her trail, scent and all, had disappeared out of nowhere. Callie had claimed ignorance when she’d asked where they went all the time, though Leona suspected she knew more than she let on.

As a last resort, Leona had gone to Praetor Greene with her frustrations, but he’d been no help either. She’d caught him trying to sneak off somewhere, probably conducting his own investigation. She’d tried to get him to take her with him, but he’d insisted instead that she take advantage of Matt’s favouritism to find out more about the pack’s politics. So, here she was, sticking close to Matt and nearly busting with boredom.

She generally liked Matt and his company, but neither of them dealt well with prolonged inaction. She was about to suggest they spar to pass the time, when a flicker of movement caught her attention.

“Raphael,” Matt said, “about time you show up.”

Leona could barely discern Raphael’s scowling features in the wan dawn light filtering through the open warehouse door. It was always a little unsettling that vampires had no smell of their own. You could never anticipate their arrival. He kept a good distance from them.

“I do not want to hear complaints, Jensen. I was delayed by _your_ incompetence,” Raphael retorted.

“That seems harsh,” Leona said.

Raphael turned the full force of his scowl on her.

“I asked to meet the leader of the New York werewolves. Tell me, why do we have an audience?”

Leona spread her stance and crossed her arms.

“I’m Matt’s bodyguard,” she announced.

“Her name’s Leona,” Matt replied, “a new member of my pack. Just come out with what you want to say and get it over with.”

If Raphael realized her identity, he didn’t show it. He gave her one last dismissive look before ignoring her completely. Any gratitude she had felt toward him for allowing her to escape Praetor House faded rapidly. Even after having made them wait, Raphael was incredibly dour and unpleasant.

“Whatever, I have no time for your foolishness today. We found the body of one of the first people who disappeared near Chinatown about a month ago.”

Leona perked her ears. She hadn’t heard anything about disappearances. She would bet anything that Praetor Greene had been keeping the information from her and investigating it himself.

“And you were trespassing in my territory again to find it?” Matt asked, visibly irked.

“I did not have to. It was dumped in Brooklyn.”

“Then what does that have to do with me and my wolves? That’s way outside our area.”

“There were wounds all over the body,” Raphael informed him grimly. “Bites and scratches, new and old, from a number of different werewolves. It looked like they repeatedly tried to Turn the human before he finally died of his injuries.”

Leona drew a sharp breath and gritted her teeth, blood boiling. Her mission was so much more serious than she’d thought. It was such cruelty to knowingly try to Turn someone, especially in this day and age when it was reportedly impossible. She swore to herself that she would find the werewolves responsible, official Praetor Lupus business or not.

Matt seemed equally upset by the news, but for a different reason.

“No one from my pack would do that,” he said defensively. “If werewolves are part of this, they’re outsiders and have nothing to do with us.”

Leona was surprised at the staunch denial. Surely he must know something was going on when the younger members of his pack were never at their base. Or did he know and not care? She’d spent enough time with Matt that she’d ruled out his involvement, but maybe she’d been too quick to decide the pack leader’s innocence.

Raphael flashed his fangs aggressively as he hissed.

“Almost a dozen werewolves tortured and murdered a human senselessly in _our_ city, and likely abducted more, and you are telling me they are _not_ your concern? Even if they are unaffiliated, they are still werewolves and therefore _your_ problem as a pack leader. Deal with them, Jensen, and deal with them fast. Or I will make them _my_ problem. And believe me,” he threatened, “you will regret it if the werewolves become my problem.”

Leona didn’t like the direction this meeting was taking, but Matt deflected the threat with a dismissive wave of his hand. Damn him and his easy-going attitude.

“Touch my pack and forget ever working together again,” he said without any real urgency. “I’ll do something, so stay out of it.”

“That is all I wanted from the beginning,” Raphael said tightly.

Leona gradually unclenched her jaw and fists as Raphael proceeded to fill Matt in on some of the finer details of the case. Rather than threatening, it began to sound more like a routine lecture. Leona’s attention drifted when they began to squabble over territory and compare patrol notes, thinking of the dead man and the next steps of her investigation. But she snapped back to the present when she heard a familiar name.

“I met your friend, Magnus Bane.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. It was the first time he’d shortened the distance between them all meeting.

“How?”

“I noticed this crazy burning smell on patrol. I thought it might be trouble, so I followed the scent, and it was him. Didn’t know who he was at first,” Matt said nonchalantly, “since he never came to that other meeting we had planned. But he was nicer than you, that’s for sure. You oughta bring him next time.”

Having smelled Magnus herself, Leona was unsurprised at the comment. Raphael, on the other hand, seemed strangely shaken. It was the first emotion she’d seen him display beyond anger and irritation. A moment later however, his mask of a scowl returned.

“Deal with your own problems and leave Magnus out of it. If I hear you have bothered him about anything, I will personally come for you. If there’s nothing else, I think we’re done here.”

He barely waited on Matt’s nod before he sped away into the early morning, remarkably fast even for a vampire. Leona would love to test her speed against his.

“Jesus, touchy isn’t he?” Leona said.

Matt laughed and clapped her on the back.

“You get used to him after a while.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret's out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeee, this is one of my favourite chapters.
> 
> Warning for some internalized aphobia? Maybe? I'm not sure how to tag this. Let's just say it's implied Raphael is not totally ok with his own asexuality.

[Song: Matt Maeson - Cringe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoJtlPQzqkQ)

Alec knocked on the door to Magnus’s apartment. He was beginning to worry that Magnus was out, when it finally opened, revealing a surprised-looking Magnus and the dimly-lit room beyond him.

“Alexander! How did you get in?”

“Your neighbour let me up. I was nearby so I thought I’d visit.” At Magnus’s obvious discomfort, he added, “is that a problem?”

“Normally it would be fine, but I’m a little busy at the moment,” he answered evasively.

“Oh, you mentioned you didn’t have any readings today, so I just thought...”

Alec was about to regretfully take his leave when, to his surprise, he heard someone call impatiently from the gloom of the apartment: “I thought I told you to cancel all your appointments for this afternoon. Hurry up and get rid of him, Magnus.” 

Suspicion seized Alec at the familiar way the voice addressed Magnus and ordered him around. He couldn’t shake the memory of the last time he’d walked into Todd’s place only to find a very naked Caleb climbing him like a tree.

“Alec, wait–”

Alec pushed past him into the apartment, noting that all the curtains were conspicuously shut. He strode toward a figure standing in the shadows at the back of the room. From what he could see in the semi-obscurity, he wore an oversized hoodie and looked about Alec’s age, not much more than twenty. Dark hair curled around his temples and he was handsome despite the haughty scowl he was directing at Alec.

“Who are you?” Alec demanded.

“Raphael Santiago,” he replied curtly. “And _you_ are interrupting.”

“Magnus’s friend... he mentioned you.” Alec said, glancing uncertainly at Magnus, who was looking nervously from one of them to the other.

“Funny, he never mentioned you.”

Raphael waved dismissively, clearly expecting Alec to leave.

Unwilling to go simply because Raphael wished it, he announced defiantly, “I’m Alec Lightwood, Magnus’s boyfriend.”

At Alec’s words, Raphael froze. Eyes flashing, he whirled on Magnus with unnatural speed.

“Boyfriend?”

“Raphael, I can explain,” he began.

Alec reeled from the impact of Magnus’s words. He recognized Raphael’s look of betrayal – he’d been cheated on more than once. But he’d never thought Magnus, for all his secrets, would deceive him in that way. It hurt so much more than any of the others before.

“You’re with Raphael? You told me you’d never been on a date, never even kissed before me. You’ve been lying to me this whole time?” He didn’t care that his voice broke.

Magnus turned to him, more alarmed than before.

“No! Raphael and I aren’t like that, we–”

Raphael’s sharp, humourless laugh cut him off.

“No, it could never be like that, not with me,” he sneered.

Magnus seemed caught between the two of them. Alec clung to the denial, wanting so badly to believe it.

“All these years, no one was closer to you than I – I cared for you more than anyone! I thought it was enough, because I could give you no more...”

Raphael trailed off and Magnus recoiled from the heartache in his accusation.

“What are you saying?”

“But you chose a mortal?” Raphael continued, angry again. “A _Lightwood?_ After all the Shadowhunters did to you? After they used you and abandoned you?”

“The Shadowhunters weren’t to blame!” Magnus flared back, hand thrown out in anger. Alec flinched as inexplicable red sparks escaped from his outstretched fingers and dissolved into the air. “Alec least of all! He had no part in any of that!”

Alec’s head was whirling. He could no longer decipher what they were arguing about, what his family had to do with it, or even what he was seeing. He looked on helplessly.

“No? He too will leave you one day, Magnus, as all mortals do.”

Magnus seemed too grief-stricken to reply.

“I did not believe you could hide such things from me, even after Matt Jensen told me how strongly you smelled of burning.”

Recognition passed over Magnus’s features.

“I was going to tell you...”

“When? After the entire Downworld found out about your magic?”

“Please, not in front of Alec,” Magnus begged.

“Erase his memory,” Raphael said coldly. “With your magic it will be easy, as if he never knew you.”

Alec steadied himself against a nearby table. He was still lost in their conversation, but he understood enough. The incident with Matt Jensen replayed in his mind. He thought he’d been missing something at the time, but this...

“Magnus, what is he talking about?”

Raphael turned to him with utmost contempt.

“Relax, Shadowhunter. You won’t even know what you are missing. Your kind should be used to it.” The last part he said to Magnus, who looked stricken.

“What else did you fail to tell me?” Raphael demanded.

“There was... a portal and a demon...”

“What?” Raphael’s sudden quiet was somehow worse than the biting tone he’d used before.

“The demon is dead. I disposed of it myself,” Magnus said hastily. “It was an old interdimensional portal that had been inactive for centuries. That’s how we missed it, but I’ve closed it. The Seals still hold, Raphael, I swear to you.”

“Oh how fortunate we narrowly avoided the apocalypse,” he said sarcastically. “ _Dios!_ You could still bring demons back into this world at any time.”

“You know I would never! More than anyone, I wouldn’t.”

“And if someone makes you undo the Seals? Who better suited than one who created them? Once others learn of your magic you do not think they will try to use you?”

“No one else need know! As long as you don’t tell anyone–”

“You think I would tell someone?” he burst out. “Even if that were not the stupidest thing you have ever said, I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I OWE YOU!”

Everyone was frozen in the face of his white-hot rage, but Raphael was seemingly the first to recover.

“I will keep my promise to you. You are lucky Matt Jensen is an idiot, but how long do you think you can keep this secret? How long do you think I will be able to protect you?”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Figure something out on your own. When you come to your senses over the Shadowhunter, you know where to find me.”

Pulling up his hood, he disappeared impossibly fast in a blur of motion through the still-open doorway, which shut with a bang. Magnus stood motionlessly, looking after him. Alec blinked rapidly, but despite the unbelievable things he’d seen, his vision was already clear.

“Aren’t you going to wipe my memory?” Alec finally found his voice amid his confusion and misery and was surprised at the edge to it. “I know you have magic, and somehow that’s dangerous, so aren’t you going to make me forget everything about you?”

“No,” he replied, turning toward him slowly, and for once Alec would have believed Magnus was any age he claimed. His resignation had the look of ages. “Even if you were to tell everyone, even if it meant the destruction of the world, I could never do that to you. You can go, Alexander. I won’t stop you.”

Alec glanced at the door but didn’t move.

“Magnus, who are you really?”

“I tried to tell you before...”

Magnus trailed off, but Alec knew his meaning. The memory was still sharp and piercing – the hurt in Magnus’s eyes and the words he’d used. He’d called his father a demon, called himself the son of a demon. It no longer felt like a figure of speech.

“Who–” he rasped and tried again, “what..?”

“I’m a warlock, half-human and half-demon.”

Alec felt numb. He wanted to flee from all this madness of demons and magic, pretend none of it had happened, but he couldn’t. He’d been puzzling over Magnus for so long, and as absurd as it was, a few pieces were beginning to make sense.

“But demons are evil, and you– you’re not.”

Magnus laughed breathily, humourlessly.

“You seem so sure.”

“Aren’t you?”

Magnus didn’t bother answering him.

“Why are you still here?” he asked finally.

Paired with how shattered Magnus looked, as if he’d never hoped for redemption or acceptance, that was what finally made Alec snap. He stepped toward Magnus unsteadily.

“Why do you always give up on me so easily?” Uncertainty flickered behind Magnus’s mask of resignation, cracking it, leaving hope to fill in the empty spaces. “I’m here because I want to be.”

“Oh, Alexander...”

Magnus practically fell into his arms. Alec’s knees buckled under the extra weight, scarcely supporting the both of them. But they held. As Magnus shook against him in silent sobs, Alec couldn’t regret his decision to stay.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec gets a history lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long and... experimental.
> 
> I'm afraid there's quite a bit of exposition, but I tried to break it up a bit. I'm too tired to look at it any longer anyway.
> 
> If you have questions about this AU, you should be able to find some answers in here.

[Song: SVRCINA - All I Wanna Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDQ_ar1L09E)

A while later, after they both had calmed down significantly, Alec sat in an old armchair across from Magnus, who was brewing them both tea.

“Just so I’m clear,” Alec said slowly, “you’ve never cheated on me with Raphael?”

“Of course not! He’s a friend, my closest friend, but that’s all.”

“He didn’t seem to think so.”

Magnus paused, tea cannister in hand.

“I’d been keeping a lot from him and he was upset... I mean, we’ve never... he’s never said...”

Alec still very much doubted that Raphael’s feelings ended at friendship, but he didn’t want to press the issue, so he let it pass. Magnus could be pretty clueless where it concerned himself.

“Then Raphael is like you? A... warlock?”

“He’s a vampire, actually, and the leader of the local vampire clan.”

Alec gripped the arms of his chair. Magnus seemed to have no qualms answering his questions now, but that didn’t mean the answers couldn’t still take Alec by surprise.

“Okay, so there are warlocks _and_ vampires? What’s next? Werewolves?”

Magnus looked apologetic.

“You’ve actually already met the leader of the New York werewolf pack–”

“Matt Jensen,” Alec finished for him. “Of course. I’m scared to ask – is there anything else that I should know about? Maybe about the bartender on our last date?”

“No, she’s human. But most of your myths have some truth to them.”

When Alec didn’t know how to respond, Magnus clarified, “there are also faeries, though they mostly keep to themselves now. Warlocks, vampires, werewolves, and faeries are all Downworlders. We make up the Downworld, existing on the fringes of the world you know, hiding in plain sight.”

“And you don’t... I mean, in the stories, vampires and werewolves are dangerous and...”

Alec didn’t know how to phrase his question without being offensive. He trusted Magnus, and didn’t believe he would hurt him, but he couldn’t say the same for the rest of the Downworld. Raphael, he thought, wouldn’t hesitate to suck his blood dry if it came to that.

“Oh!” Magnus said, realizing Alec’s concern. “Downworlders are all part demon... but we’re also more than our demonic origins. It could be dangerous if, say, you got into a fist fight with the leader of the local werewolf pack...” Alec shifted guiltily. “But for the most part you don’t have to worry. We have the potential for good and evil, like anyone else. We just have special traits and abilities that complicate everything a bit.”

There was a long pause as Alec tried to process all this new information.

“So, except for the fact that you’re apparently magic, what makes warlocks different from anyone else?”

“Well,” Magnus considered, “all warlocks have some kind of mark that identifies us for what we are.”

“A mark? But I’ve never seen one on you.”

“I have two actually. You nearly discovered both at one time or another, though I try to keep them hidden from humans.”

“Can I see them?”

Alec thought he might have asked for too much in his curiosity, but eventually Magnus quietly lifted the hem of his sweater, revealing the level expanse of his navel-less stomach.

“That’s why whenever I... you...”

Alec collected himself. So much of Magnus’s jumpiness now made sense.

“And the other one?”

Magnus busied himself with the teapot.

“The other one I hide with a glamour, an illusion of sorts to fool untrained eyes. There was once I... lost control with you and the glamour slipped, and you almost found out.”

Magnus turned to stare at him. Alec made to speak, but his mouth was left hanging open as Magnus’s brown eyes gradually became a bright yellow-green. Slitted, cat-like pupils glanced away from him.

“I’ll hide them again.”

“Magnus, they’re beautiful,” Alec said, awestruck.

Magnus raised his eyes slowly, refracting the warm afternoon light and gilding it gold.

“You’re not frightened?”

“My boyfriend’s a beautiful, magical warlock – what is there to be frightened of?” Alec said airily. His last bit of intact logic was telling him he must be fully stunned to be accepting everything so easily, but Magnus’s shy smile was worth it.

“So what can you do with magic? Other than erasing memories.”

Magnus flinched, and Alec immediately regretted bringing up the memory issue.

“With enough magic there are infinite possibilities, though I’ve been trying to keep a low profile since I got mine back. Mostly I just use it to fetch objects around the house, get dressed in a hurry, send toilet paper to Chairman Meow and Church when I’m on dates with you...”

Alec laughed as he trailed off. Encouraged by his laugh, Magnus twitched his fingers and matching teacups appeared before the two of them, full of the steaming, freshly brewed liquid.

“Woah!” Alec took his teacup gingerly. “Even seeing it... it’s still hard to swallow.”

“Well the tea is quite hot. You should probably just sip it for now.” His cat eyes glinted mischievously.

The sight of Magnus joking around, especially where he’d been so anxious before, struck Alec. He reached for him and kissed him impulsively.

“Ah,” Magnus exclaimed lightly as they broke apart. Alec followed his gaze down to see tiny blue sparks bounce off his teacup and vanish into the wooden table. Alec watched them with wonder. “Ever since I’ve gotten my magic back, you’ve been absolutely no good for my control, Alexander.”

Alec grinned, a little pleased with himself. Magnus had kept him at arm’s length for so long it was reassuring to find out he’d been having at least some kind of an effect on his boyfriend.

“You never did explain what happened with your magic. How did you get it back? And why did you lose it?”

“I got it back the day I met you, actually. It was at the Institute’s party that I dealt with the portal and the demon. As for how I lost it... I hardly know where to start. You’re missing a lot of history.”

“History?” Alec repeated.

“I told you that I’m older than I look,” Magnus said significantly.

Alec set down his tea carefully.

“Magnus, how old are we talking, exactly?”

Magnus bowed his head into his teacup and took a long sip.

“Oh, four hundred years or so...” he mumbled.

“You look really good for your age,” Alec said in a strangled voice.

“Because I’m immortal, I stopped physically aging when I was about nineteen, but the age is different for every warlock,” he explained quickly.

“Immortal...” he felt the weight of the word but struggled to capture its enormity. It was a lot to take in. Maybe even more than the magic, the demons, and all the rest. “And Raphael, he’s immortal too.”

Alec gazed dazedly out the window.

Though Alec hadn’t phrased it as a question, Magnus replied, “yes, warlocks and vampires are both immortal. Faeries can be extremely long-lived, but they are mortal, as are werewolves.”

Through the glass, the sun began to blind Alec.

“Wait,” he said turning back to Magnus, “if Raphael’s a vampire, how did he leave? The sun is still up.”

“I had the curtains closed out of courtesy because vampires are still sensitive to sunlight, but they don’t burst into flames anymore. Not since the Decline.”

“The Decline?”

Summoning books from across the room with a flick of his wrist, Magnus said, “I think it’s time for that history lesson, Alexander.”

[Song: Eden - Circles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fP8ElyrwtEc)

“After the Incursion, demons were overrunning the earth, invading through rifts between our world and the Void, wreaking chaos and death everywhere.”

Illustrated demons in varying degrees of ugly flashed before Alec as Magnus flipped through the pages of a book appropriately named ‘Demons, Demons, Demons’. Magnus opened another old tome on a page displaying a man in armour, heavily laden with weapons.

“A thousand years ago, Jonathan Shadowhunter had a warlock summon the Angel Raziel for aid in the war against demons. The Angel deemed his request just and gave him some of his own blood to mix with that of humans. Thus the warrior race of Shadowhunters, part human and part angel, was born.”

“Shadowhunter – that’s what Raphael called me,” Alec interjected.

“Yes, because the Lightwoods were a family of Shadowhunters. You are descended from them, but there haven’t truly been any Shadowhunters for hundreds of years.”

“I had no idea. My parents traced our ancestry to Europe, but they never found out anything about this.”

“They wouldn’t have. There were... circumstances,” Magnus said haltingly. “In 1761, Shadowhunters working with Downworlders successfully closed the rifts in what later became known as the Sealing. Previously, the Shadowhunters had tried to ward the rifts to keep demons from invading, while leaving open pathways for them to vanish through once they’d been defeated. The Wards were limited in their effectiveness, but the Seals blocked all entry and exit completely.”

Magnus passed Alec a smaller volume in a bright blue binding. He had opened it on a page that showed an arctic region. Triangular outcroppings rose high above the frozen landscape, towering over even the glaciers. Magnus kept flipping too rapidly for Alec to read much of the text, but he glimpsed mentions of Wrangel Island, Seals, and Hester Branwell.

“The only issue with the Sealing,” Magnus continued, “was that demons no longer had a way to return to the Void. They no longer disappeared upon defeat and were more difficult to destroy. But the Seals finally swung the war in the Shadowhunters’s favour, and the next three years became known as the Purge.”

Magnus paused in his flipping. A large group of black-clad warriors was depicted surrounding a tall, skeletal demon with long talons and rotting flesh. On the next page, those same battered warriors cowered in the shadow of a giant floating angel with golden wings outstretched across the sky. Magnus’s hand lingered on the image.

“In 1764, the Shadowhunters and their allies defeated all the remaining demons. The last was a greater demon. It was a long, difficult battle. When it was won, the Angel Raziel appeared before the Shadowhunters. He decreed their heavenly mandate accomplished and rewarded them with peace.”

Magnus had turned away from Alec and the book, speaking matter-of-factly, as though he were repeating a lesson learned by rote.

“To that end, Raziel had the Shadowhunters forget everything about the Shadow World, even their own history and culture. They rejoined the rest of humanity and disappeared among them.”

“That’s why you and Raphael knew about Shadowhunters, but I didn’t.”

“Yes.”

Alec would have asked more about the Shadowhunters, intrigued by this lost history of his ancestors, but Magnus continued in his explanation.

“1765 was the year of the Independence of the Downworld. After the disappearance of both demons and Shadowhunters, Downworlders found themselves unrivaled and unchecked in terms of strength and abilities. But the celebrations didn’t last long. Downworlders felt their powers begin to rapidly weaken over time in the Decline of the Downworld. Historians disagree on the exact dates. Some define the period between 1766 and 1777 as the Great Decline, while others argue the Decline is ongoing and no end date can be assigned. It’s theorized to be a result of the Sealing and the Purge, since Downworlder powers stem from demonic sources.”

“And that’s how you lost your magic?” Alec asked.

“Partly,” replied Magnus. He began pacing. “There were a few advantages for werewolves and vampires. They had better control over themselves and their weaknesses lessened. As I mentioned before, vampires gained the ability to withstand sunlight in 1777. Faeries, for the most part, retreated into their own realms in an attempt to preserve their power. Warlocks were the hardest hit, but most can still perform small bits of magic. I happened to stop using magic entirely and as a result, my ability went dormant. It was only when I recently came into contact with the interdimensional portal that my magic woke up. In a big way.”

Alec closed the book he’d been examining as Magnus explained how unheard of it was for him to have such powerful magic in the present day. Alec stopped listening when he read the leather cover. It was titled ‘Witnessing the Sealing and the Purge: A History Written by Magnus Bane’.

“You were there,” Alec interrupted incredulously.

Magnus stopped pacing.

“Why did you tell it like it has nothing to do with you? There has to be more than names and dates to the story.”

“Because it’s easier,” Magnus said somberly. “It’s not something I like to remember. My warlock friends Ragnor and Catarina convinced me to write that book to help me come to terms with events, but I’m not sure it did much good.” He grimaced.

 “Tell me,” Alec said. “Tell me what really happened.”

“You might be better off not knowing. You already know far more than you should.”

“Then there’s no going back,” Alec said firmly. “Magnus, how can I understand if you won’t talk to me?”

With a long, deep sigh, Magnus sunk back down into his chair and launched reluctantly into his tale.

[Song: Of Monsters and Men - I Of The Storm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlCkafSYNJI)

“I told you once that when I was nine a brotherhood took me in. Those were the Silent Brothers, an organization within the Shadowhunters’s society. For that reason, I grew up among them."

_Silence and cold and bones. Only the resounding voices inside his skull to keep him company in the underground sanctuary. Only voices and occasionally the kind scholar who would come to learn from the brothers. He would eventually follow him out into the open air of Idris. The scholar gave him the small cottage on the outskirts of Alicante where he was to live. He would often gaze up at the shining city of glass from outside its wards, so often from the outside._

“I was always something of an outsider. Downworlders and Shadowhunters never really got along. The Shadowhunters, when they weren’t too busy battling demons, often persecuted Downworlders for our demon blood. Because Shadowhunters also disappeared after the Purge, some Downworlders still joke that it was not only demons that were purged from the earth. There was a lot of bad blood there.”

_A young warlock girl with white hair and periwinkle blue skin, bound and gagged by the Shadowhunters he was supposed to be working with. Her look of pure fear and then betrayal when she realized what Magnus was. He’d barely kept them from killing her long enough for his actual friends to arrive. Any longer and they might have killed him right along with her. Even when they needed his magic, he was still a warlock just as much as the girl._

“I soon realized my presence was merely tolerated because of the usefulness of my magic, but I stayed because it was the only home I knew for a long time. And I had friends there, Shadowhunters who didn’t spurn me because of how I was born or see me as a means to an end.”

_It was always best when they were sent out on missions just the three of them. Or when they snuck him into Alicante, just to spend a little longer together._

“When those I had grown up with, fought alongside, and loved passed away in battle or in age, I couldn’t bear to remain there any longer. Their leaders were angry. They called me ungrateful for abandoning them in their war after they had taken me in, but neither pleas nor threats made any difference. My loyalty was to those who had already gone.”

_He sat atop his horse and watched the white smoke rise from the pyres in the distance. He’d never been allowed attendance to their funeral rites, but he’d thought this time, at least this time it would be different. He was wrong. With one last silent farewell to the friends who had been more like siblings to him, he turned his horse away and toward Brocelind Forest._

“I was experienced enough in magic by then that I made my way easily in the world, but few Downworlders truly trusted me or accepted me because I’d thrown my lot in with the Shadowhunters for so long. Many saw me as a traitor. Catarina and Ragnor were the exceptions, though I think they still thought me strange with my attachment to our oppressors. Times were hard for everyone as well – demons were fully besetting the Shadowhunters, slaughtering humans and Downworlders alike.”

_Mistrust followed him everywhere. No one would even deal with him at the Shadow Markets, not until a female warlock with familiar periwinkle blue skin stepped in. The look of betrayal that had haunted him for so long was gone. Kindness and understanding replaced it instead. A green warlock with horns stood behind her and eyed him curiously._

“I’d begun to think I’d always be an outsider when a girl suddenly showed up at my door, a few hundred years ago now. She was Essie – Hester Branwell as she’s known by history when she’s remembered at all – great-granddaughter to a couple of the Shadowhunters I’d been closest to. Though they passed away long before she was born, she’d grown up hearing stories of our battles together, of my skill with magic, from her mother, who’d heard them from her mother in turn.”

_He’d missed the resemblance at first, but eventually he saw it. It was less her features than it was the open trust and respect she regarded him with._

“She begged me to help the Shadowhunters again. They would lose against the demons at this rate, she argued. Initially I refused. I’d fought with them for over half a century and what difference had it made? But she was persistent, and she was much more ingenious than generations of Shadowhunters before her.

“Rather than fighting on the front-lines against a neverending tide of demons, she intended to stop their invasion entirely. She was the one who conceived of the Seals when Shadowhunters had always relied on their Wards before. She was convinced we could do it together if we combined the angelic power of the Shadowhunters with my demonic magic.

“We worked together for more than a decade on this project. Others joined us once they saw the merit of what we were attempting. The Herondales and Fairchilds, Carstairs and Blackthorns, even a couple Lightwoods,” Magnus said with a look at Alec.

“For once, I no longer felt like an outsider, but a valued member of a close-knit team. They were young and brilliant, with the passion to change the world. We consulted other Downworlders too, a few warlocks and faeries, for their knowledge of the gateways between worlds. When the Sealing was successful, even the most hidebound old fogies had to acknowledge our collaboration.

“Once the rifts were sealed, my team took an active role in eliminating the remaining demons in the Purge. I couldn’t desert my friends in the midst of war, so I fought alongside the Shadowhunters once again. Essie and I had invented a demon tracking device, so we knew it when we faced the last demon on earth, the greater demon Abbadon.”

Magnus was gazing at a faraway memory, eyes glazed.

“In this last battle we lost so many lives. Too many. I only just made it to Essie in time to heal her from the demon’s poison, but afterwards I had too little magic left... Tobias, Charles, Constance, Bartholomew... I couldn’t help any of them.

“We had finally won, but many of the surviving Shadowhunters were at a loss. They lived knowing only war – peace to them was almost more frightening. They were warriors, not as an occupation but as an identity. Without war they had no purpose. To them, a peaceful world was an empty one, one in which they could easily lose themselves.”

He worked his mouth silently, struggling to find words.

Alec took his hand, trying to keep him here, in the present. He was gratified when Magnus squeezed back reflexively.

“The Angel Raziel descended amidst the dead, the grieving, the relieved, and the lost. It was a sight I’ll never forget for as long as I live, however many centuries that may be. He seemed carved of blinding gold light, towering sixty feet tall above us, and we cowered before his infallible authority. He–”

Magnus’s voice caught, and he couldn’t continue.

Trying to help, Alec supplied, “then, the Angel gave the Shadowhunters peace by erasing their memories.” 

Magnus cleared his throat.

“All of them, men and women, old and young, dropped their weapons where they stood and left as if in a trance. They found their surviving family members and began entirely new lives apart from the Shadow World. I tried to stop Essie... She looked at me then as she never had. I was a stranger in her eyes. It was the same with all the others. I had finally found a place I belonged, and I lost it all in an instant.”

“What?” Alec asked, dismayed. “They forgot you? How–”

“It was Raziel’s will.”

“But that’s too cruel...”

“Angels are cruel, Alexander. They are irreproachably good, but cold and cruel,” he said bitterly.

“How can that be considered good?”

“I told you. It was for peace. So that the Shadowhunters might have peace, and the rest of the world along with them. If they had kept their memories, there would have been another bloody war, but this time with Downworlders. Not all, but too many Shadowhunters saw us as only slightly better than demons. The worst would routinely kill Downworlders for sport, taking trophies from our bodies, warlock marks and the like. Only the threat of demons had kept some from turning their full might on us. Sooner or later, the entire Downworld would likely have been annihilated.

“I asked Raziel myself,” Magnus said with a hollow laugh, “why he hadn’t erased my memory as well. He said I was to be the world’s Witness. The sole witness. Hence the book.”

He gestured dismissively at the blue book still lying on the table between them.

“What was stopping you from finding the Shadowhunters you’d known and telling them everything?” Alec asked quietly.

“Could you do it?” Magnus looked at him beseechingly. “If everyone you loved was suddenly free and happy, oblivious to the endless horrors and suffering they had faced, could you risk shattering that fragile peace? Even telling you this now, centuries and generations later, feels like a betrayal.”

Alec couldn’t say anything to that.

“Only Essie...” Magnus continued slowly. “Only Essie I couldn’t forget. I watched over her from afar. She became an eccentric old crone, delighting village children with ever new and strange contraptions, always tinkering...”

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“Rather than a warrior, she had always been an inventor, at her heart, and she remained one until the day she died.”

“You were in love with her.”

Alec thought he ought to be jealous of Essie, but he felt only a deep, sympathetic sadness.

“I was,” Magnus said with heartbreaking simplicity.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leona confronts Callie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short and sweet. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I may have to start updating less frequently or with shorter chapters because I'm catching up to the place I'd written ahead to. I've got the plot figured out with three main story arcs, but actually writing the thing takes time (not to mention how obsessive I can get about editing). But I've still got a bit of leeway, so hopefully I can keep updating every week.
> 
> With that said, next week I think I might post some extra backstory as a kind of filler? But it's honestly one of my favourite things I've written and gives a sense of the werewolf pack dynamics, which is useful for the main story. 
> 
> Also, also! I just want to recommend all the female empowerment songs for Leona's chapters, haha. She's trouble. Keep an eye on her.

[Song: Sara Bareilles - Brave](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwTr_CRw3GY)

Leona waited outside Callie’s high school gate. She could have met Callie back at the base, but she wanted to speak to her away from the pack.

Familiar grey dreadlocks bobbed into view, and Leona ducked hastily behind a security guard, who peered back at her suspiciously.

Stella, a teacher at Callie’s school, was another member of the pack and someone Leona definitely didn’t want to meet. Callie seemed fond of her, but Leona found her annoyingly strict. And she got along well with Praetor Greene, which was enough to lose Leona’s good opinion forever. The general consensus among the werewolves was that Stella ran the pack, at least in mundane matters, and only Matt seemed unaware of the challenge to his authority.

Once Stella was lost in the crowd of students milling outside the gates, Leona relaxed and returned to watching them with curiosity. In a sense, she’d been quite sheltered. Her identity, its significance, and the history of her people had been drilled into her from a young age, first by her mother and then her uncle, but she’d never been to school.

Praetor House was the closest she’d come, but even then she’d rarely been allowed in the general classes. It was always special lessons and Praetor Greene’s private tutelage when your family ran the organization. Even on their mission, he’d continued to give her private lessons at the pack’s base. At least she could finally wear something other than black, she thought, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jean jacket.

Leona finally spotted Callie, who was walking alone and dressed in clothes that were too big for her, as always. She stumbled when Leona stepped out in front of her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up,” Leona replied, throwing an arm around her, which was tricky considering their difference in height. “I thought we could go somewhere together.”

Callie looked around self-consciously at the other students while they walked, as if they noticed or cared.

“Go where?” she asked with lowered voice.

“Wherever Erik and the others disappear to,” Leona said, fixing Callie with her gaze. She kept firm hold of her too as she squirmed under Leona’s arm.

“I told you. I don’t know where they go.”

“Maybe not, but you know something, or you wouldn’t get so uncomfortable every time I bring it up.”

Callie finally wriggled free and put a safe distance between them. The throng of students was thinning the farther they went from the school, but Callie beckoned her into the privacy of an alcove anyway.

“Why do you want to know so bad anyway? You’re just asking for trouble. Can’t you leave well enough alone?”

There was a plea in her last question, but Leona was unmoved.

“They killed a man, Callie.”

She shrank back, butting against the brick wall behind her.

“How could you say that? Sure Erik’s a jerk, but you’re taking it too far...”

“I wish I was making it up.” Leona stepped forward into Callie’s space again. “But I’m not. I found out about it when I was with Matt. Werewolves bit a man, trying to Turn him, so many times he died. And other people are still missing.”

Callie might not have wanted to believe her, but she wasn’t blindly loyal as Matt had been. Doubt crossed her expression and Leona pushed harder.

“Do you know what happens when a human is bitten or scratched by a transformed werewolf? It was bad enough back when the lycanthrope virus was actually strong enough to Turn people. Now we can’t fully Turn anyone, but we can still infect them with enough demon poison to drive them mad with bone-breaking pain and violent impulses.”

“How do you know something like that?” Callie asked, aghast.

“Because our people experimented on humans after the Downworld started declining. The ‘tests’ only ended when more of us started living with humans, about the same time Woolsey Scott founded the Praetor Lupus and started trying to control that kind of thing. Well, they _had_ ended. Whoever killed that man was obviously trying to copy those experiments.”

She hoped Callie wouldn’t question her much more on the source of her information. She was pretty sure they’d grown up reading different history books. There was some knowledge the Praetor Lupus kept quiet even from other werewolves.

“Even if– if that’s true,” Callie faltered, “that doesn’t mean _you_ have to go after them. I’m sure Matt will handle it...”

Leona lost her patience then.

“Matt thinks the pack can do no wrong! By the time he does anything, more people will die.”

“Stella...” Callie began.

“Even Stella can’t go against Matt that openly. I need your help, Callie, please.”

After a heavy silence, Callie said, “I really don’t know where they go.”

Leona waited expectantly, and she continued in a whisper.

“A few months ago, before you joined the pack, a few of them brought me out to this park. I was blindfolded and wasn’t allowed to know where we were going. It was dark. It was hard to smell anything over the flowers. Other pack members were there, including Erik. He tried to convince me to join their group. He said they were going to find a way to reclaim their full werewolf powers. They talked about demons and how we were their rightful inheritors, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“I wasn’t interested. I’d never thought of myself as a werewolf in the first place, never felt like I was missing any power. And all the talk about demons made me nervous. I tried to turn them down easy, but they were really persistent. In the end, Erik got kinda nasty. After that, none of them would talk to me. I wasn’t that close to them in the first place, so it didn’t matter to me all that much, but the whole thing just felt off.”

Leona had a pretty clear idea of which park she was going to check first. She’d been right about Erik all along, and she was more determined than ever to bring him down.

To Callie, she simply said, “thanks, that helps a lot.”

“Did they really kill that man?” Callie asked in a small voice.

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Leona?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”


	16. Callie, the Harmless Hulk, and the Stern Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the story of how Callie came to be part of the New York pack. It's an extra (like Glitter Party), so you don't strictly need to read it to follow the plot, but it will give you insight into the pack dynamics. You'll also get a better sense of my werewolf characters and might better understand some of their motivations (good and bad). I also consider it one of my better pieces of writing.
> 
> I listened to [Eden - Wake Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YthChN1Wq8M) on repeat while writing this.

A cold wind blew from East River down the emptying street, stirring the litter collecting in the gutters. Callie shuddered and hugged her blanket tighter about her body, pressing balled fists against the emptiness of her stomach. She wasn’t looking forward to spending another night out on the streets.

It had been two weeks since her uncle kicked her out of the house. She’d managed to get a bed in one shelter or another for most of those nights, but today it didn’t seem to matter where she went. After the fourth time she’d been turned away, and after having her bus fare run out near Chinatown, she’d sunk foot-weary into a corner between two buildings.

With dusk descending, few people still walked briskly past, most ignoring her existence entirely, even as she called out quietly for spare change.

A large shadow loomed before her and stopped. His scent was strong, with an unidentifiable feral quality to it. For as long as she could remember, she’d always been strangely sensitive to smells, but she’d learned to keep quiet about it.

Without raising her head, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. She relinquished any hope that he had stopped to drop change into the paper cup at her feet. He didn’t seem to own more than the old, ripped jeans that were all he wore. A thick layer of hair covered the bulging muscles of his arms and chest, with lighter, tanned patches showing through his natural fur. Still shivering herself, she wondered at how he could stand the cold dressed as he was. Callie shrank back into her concrete corner. He obviously had nothing to offer her, and she didn’t want any trouble.

“What are you doing in my territory?” he demanded in a deep voice. “You have a pack?”

_Dang it_ , she thought. Of course she’d picked the piece of sidewalk that belonged to the Homeless Hulk. Still without meeting his eyes, she mumbled an apology, grabbing her blanket and backpack. She stood up to leave, but her vision blurred and faded as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She clung to the building to stay on her feet.

A large hand with dirty fingernails wrapped around her upper arm, and she heard the Hulk say, “hold up, you look like you need some meat.”

Callie froze. She’d had more than one scare since she’d wound up on the street. She’d only been saved by some swift running that belied her short legs and size. But this time she was already caught.

She’d always tried to make herself smaller, unobtrusive. She’d hide her plump curves beneath layers of clothing, her face behind the tangled curls of her hair. But none of that mattered when some man decided she was just another vulnerable body he could use.

Shaking in his unshakable grip, she pleaded, “no, no, please. Take whatever money’s there and let me go. Please.” She gestured toward the cup of change she’d abandoned as a peace offering.

“Hey, take it easy. I’m serious. Werewolves gotta eat a lotta meat.”

For the first time, she looked directly at him. Open concern showed on his face in the slight creases of his forehead and the set of his thick eyebrows. Great. Her harasser was nuts.

“Come on, I’ll get you a meal – stop you looking so pale. After, you can come back with me to my pack’s base if you got nowhere else to go.”

She searched his face again. Despite his imposing size and smell, he seemed surprisingly benign. For a crazy person who believed in werewolves.

“Why would you do that for me?” she asked in a small voice.

He scratched at the stubble on his neck, considering.

“Werewolves should stick together. And you look like you have no place to go. You don’t belong to some other pack, do you?

Callie should probably just say yes and hope he would leave her alone, but she ached from hunger and her joints felt stiff from the cold.

“No, I don’t have anyplace to go.”

“Let’s get you that meat, then.”

He smiled good-naturedly and pulled her upright by the arm he was still gripping.

“I’m Matt Jensen, leader of the New York werewolves. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Callie.”

Matt picked up her cup, with its meagre earnings, from the sidewalk and handed it to her.

“Give me your bag, Cal, and we’ll go.”

Callie hesitated a moment, but it wasn’t as if she could resist if Matt decided to rob her of everything she had anyway. She surrendered her backpack, the last of her possessions. Matt slung it over one shoulder, making it look even smaller and insignificant against his broad back.

She really only had a spare change of clothes, a broken pencil sharpener, and a worn copy of _His Dark Materials_ in there anyway. The Philip Pullman trilogy had been her favourite since she was young, and though it wasn’t the most practical thing to be dragging around, she couldn’t regret grabbing it at the last moment. It was only thanks to her religious aunt and uncle’s ignorance that they hadn’t confiscated it ages ago, and she wasn’t about to part from it now. They’d been through too much together.

Matt led her to a nearby fast-food chain. Staff and customers alike eyed the two of them as they lined up to order. Callie was quite certain the restaurant had rules against partial nudity, but when you looked as threatening as Matt, people seemed to let some things slide.

When they reached the front of the queue, Matt said, “order whatever you want, as long as there’s meat in it.”

He fished out a wrinkled twenty from his pants and slapped it on the counter.

Happy to oblige, Callie ordered a bacon cheeseburger. She withered beneath the stares of everyone as she plopped down in a booth opposite Matt to wait for her order. She wondered if they thought Matt was her pimp or something. She hoped he wouldn’t be. When her food came, she decided stares were a small price to pay.

“So,” he said conversationally, “what’s a kid like you doing out here with no pack and no parents?”

“I don’t have any parents,” she replied between mouthfuls of burger, deciding it couldn’t hurt to tell Matt the truth. “My mom was an addict and died of an overdose soon after I was born, and I never knew my dad.”

“Shit, Cal. That’s some real tragic stuff.”

Matt was undeniably odd, but appearances aside, he seemed pretty harmless. Harmless Hulk.

“S’alright. My grandparents looked after me until I was ten.”

“And then?” he prompted.

“My grandpappy’s always had a bad heart, so he relied on my grammie a lot. When she fell and broke her hip, they couldn’t look after me anymore, so they sent me to my aunt and uncle. They have seven kids anyway, so one more didn’t make much of a difference.”

Matt whistled appreciatively.

“They sure had fun between the sheets.”

“Hardly,” she said, making a face. “They’re incredibly religious, like too good for birth control, pleasure is a sin kind of Christian.”

Matt barked a laugh and Callie smiled. It had been too long since she’d had a real conversation. And she felt much better with some hot food inside her, otherwise she would never have been so forthcoming about her family.

“So what happened? Why aren’t you with the holy clan now?”

Callie became absorbed in the remains of her hamburger. Memories washed over her. The memory of her best friend leaning over to kiss her, trying to play it off as a joke, at first. Then, the realization that it was all too serious. They’d both been scared, tentative, but drunk on discovering each other. The remembered thrill of a warm hand slipping into her pajamas. The muffled sounds of shared pleasure. The ecstasy of losing herself in the feeling. And then, the damning silhouette of her cousin in the open doorway. The triumphant sneer on his face. The incalculable fear.

Her aunt and uncle had wasted no time expelling her from their house. She’d grabbed what she could. She’d hoped her friend might help her, but she’d been too afraid her own parents would find out. With nowhere else to turn and having lost the one person who had meant something to her, Callie had found herself navigating the streets of New York alone.

Matt was still waiting for her answer, but she wasn’t ready to reveal that much. After living on the street, having a closet to hide in seemed like a luxury.

“I wasn’t Christian enough for them, so they kicked me out,” she simplified, taking another bite of burger.

Matt growled low in his throat.

“I don’t know much about God, but folks that put a kid out in the cold aren’t good enough to suck off a priest.”

Callie choked.

“What?” she asked hoarsely.

“Exactly,” Matt replied, jabbing the table knowingly with his finger.

She kind of wished she could unleash Matt on her aunt and uncle. They’d have no idea what to do with him.

“Anyway, I don’t want to scare you, but you shouldn’t come out here alone at night. It’s okay tonight because you’re with me, but we’re on the edge of werewolf territory. Sometimes vampires come out this way to cause trouble.”

“Vampires,” Callie repeated. She really shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

“Yeah, most of them are alright, but you never know with vampires. The clan leader is a real piece of work, but at least he keeps ‘em all on a pretty short leash.”

Callie didn’t know how to respond, so she finished the last of her cheeseburger silently as Matt carried on about vampires and werewolves.

Her meal done, they left the restaurant and went further into Chinatown.

Partway through an alley, he stopped her.

“Wait here. I gotta talk to someone real quick.”

Before Callie could protest or comment, he darted ahead and out of sight in the dark. Leaning up against the wall, she waited nervously. This secluded alley was not the kind of place she’d stop by herself if she had the choice. Callie suddenly became aware that she was being watched from the other end of the alley. The group of tough looking strangers, talking and joking loudly amongst themselves, began to make their way over to her. Her breathing quickened and she took a step backward.

She jumped as a heavy hand descended on her back.

“Ready kiddo?”

She breathed a sigh of relief that Matt had returned as promised and tried to still her shaking. At a look and a nod from Matt, the group that had been watching her dispersed and left. She was increasingly fearful that the pack Matt said he led must be a gang of some kind. But she’d come too far to turn tail now.

He hurried her along more dark streets until he brought her before a run-down Chinese restaurant called the Jade Wolf. He handed back her backpack, and Callie took it protectively.

“Here’s your new home,” Matt said.

“Um, Matt, I don’t think they’re going to let us stay in the restaurant.”

As kind as he’d been, she should have known better than to trust his promise of shelter.

Matt laughed as if she’d made a joke.

“You gotta look through the glamour. Squint. See, behind the sign to the left, there’s the station’s cell windows.”

To Callie’s amazement, as she followed where Matt pointed, she actually did see _past_ the restaurant’s facade to what appeared to be an old, abandoned police station. She was either so tired she was hallucinating, or crazy was catching.

She followed Matt into the deceptive building apprehensively. Once inside, the smell of the place hit her. It was both overwhelming and somewhat familiar. Before she could dwell on it, Matt was confronted by a stern looking woman in dark jeans and a blazer. She had thin, grey dreadlocks pulled back and neatly arranged down to her waist.

“Matt, where the hell have you been?” she demanded.

“Chill, Stella. I was recruiting a new werewolf for the pack,” he said gesturing at Callie.

Stella’s eyes swept over Callie briskly and efficiently, taking in her dishevelled appearance and dirty attire. Callie, squirming under her scrutiny, had no doubt she knew exactly where Matt had recruited her.

Callie was too confused to say much. She’d thought Matt was crazy, but it was difficult to believe this well put-together woman was also out of her mind.

“You picked a bad time for it,” said Stella. “I had half the pack out looking for you. There’s a faerie waiting to talk to you.”

Callie followed Stella’s nod to find a woman standing apart from the others in the station. Callie stared. She was undeniably pretty, but more than that, she had pointed ears, she was a light shade of sky-blue, and she wore a green dress of woven leaves that swayed about her bare feet. She caught Callie staring and winked playfully at her. Callie blushed and glanced away sheepishly.

“I heard from Larry on the way here. What does a faerie want with me?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you,” Stella said impatiently. “She’s come from the Seelie Queen so don’t keep her waiting any longer.”

“Alright. Hey, look after Callie for me. She’s one of ours now,” Matt called to Stella as he approached the flirty faerie and disappeared into a back room with her.

The warmth of Matt’s words made her uneasy. Not even her aunt and uncle had staked such a claim on her before, only sheltered her out of a sense of obligation. She mistrusted her welcome here. After all, she’d only been accepted because Matt had somehow mistaken her for a werewolf. She hadn’t even known werewolves, vampires, and faeries existed before tonight. What would happen to her when they discovered she wasn’t what they all thought?

With Matt gone, Stella led Callie through a side door. Walking briskly past old cells outfitted as sleeping quarters, she explained the layout of the pack’s base – where she could get washed, eat, and sleep. She stopped at the entrance to an empty cell, rudimentally furnished with a bed and blanket, stating it was to be Callie’s. It wasn’t much, but it was so much more than she’d had this morning.

“How old are you?”  Stella began questioning her, business-like.

“Fifteen,” Callie answered obediently.

“You in school?”

“Not anymore.”

“Werewolf or not, what kind of future do you think you’ll have without a high school diploma? Matt and his muscles are the exception, not the rule.”

“I was in a private Christian academy on Long Island... but I can’t go back there.”

Callie felt a lump rise in her throat. Despite the stuffiness of the conservative school, it had still been her favourite place, a place where she could get away from her relatives for a time, the place where she’d met and fallen for her best friend. She actually _liked_ learning, and it really had been a good school. But that was all over now.

“No, you can’t,” Stella said decisively. “It’s too far and too expensive. I’ll have you enrolled in the local school I work at. It won’t be a fancy private school like you’re used to, but it’ll get you through.”

Callie couldn’t believe it.

“You mean I can go to school again?”

“I’ll have to pull some strings to fudge the paperwork, but I’ll sort it out.”

Callie was completely overwhelmed. She’d followed Matt, a complete stranger, in desperation, and suddenly she had people looking after her again, offering her a future she thought she’d lost forever. It was too much. A sob escaped her lips.

“I can’t stay here – I’m not a werewolf,” she admitted brokenly. She never thought she’d be so upset to be human. “Matt made some kind of mistake. I’m not one of you.”

Stella observed her calmly, apparently unruffled by Callie’s distress. It seemed as though few things shook her or took her by surprise.

“Honey,” she said finally, “you stink all over of unwashed wolf. There is no doubt you’re a werewolf, whether you realize it or not. Even Matt wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.”

“How is that possible?” Callie gasped between small, shaky breaths, but doubt crept in even as she said it. There was a reason Callie had always tried to stay small, go unnoticed. A reason to hide just how keen her sense of smell was, how much stronger and faster than the average fifteen-year-old she was.

Stella knelt before her and took her by the shoulders. Her nearly charcoal eyes bored into her, shining bright and clear like her namesake. Stella, the Stern Star.

“I don’t know what happened to you that no one was there to tell you what you are. It would probably only make me furious if I did know.”

Stella took a deep breath and her expression softened.

“But believe me when I tell you this, Callie. I may have my issues with Matt as a leader, but one thing he does right is protect his pack. If he says you’re one of us, then you’re family. Your place is here. You hear me?”

Callie was overcome then by full, body-wracking sobs. The comfort Stella’s words held had broken down the damn she’d built between herself and all her unshed tears of the past few weeks.

Stella stood and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on, love, let’s get you washed and to bed. You’ll feel better after some rest. We’ll sort out all the details in the morning.”

Callie let the gentle pressure of Stella’s arm guide her. Her first impressions had all been skewed today. Matt had been affable and harmless, rather than vicious and dangerous as he initially appeared. And while Stella might have been outwardly stern, she was exceedingly kind.

When Callie finally collapsed clean and weary into the cot of her near-empty cell, she fell at once into a deep, dreamless sleep. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had held her and sung to her in dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've thought about writing an original story based on this chapter with Callie as the hero. I'm not sure if I'll follow through on it, but if you've read this far, I hope you liked her and her story. As a hero, she's not as bold and brash as Leona, but she's an understated kind of brave, the kind of every day bravery we could all use.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back from the past into the main storyline again. This chapter is soft (and short). It'll probably be the last one that's this soft for a while. Enjoy!

[Song: Lauv - I Like Me Better](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7fzkqLozwA)

Magnus woke up curled against Alec’s side. He started and fell off his couch with a dull thud. From his new position on the floor, he saw Alec stir in his sleep before settling back against the cushions. Being careful not to disturb him again, Magnus got to his feet and backed away cautiously.

There was a Lightwood sleeping in his apartment, an _Alexander_ Lightwood, which was infinitely more alarming.

Outside, it was still dark. Should he move Alec to the bedroom until morning? He cast his eyes about his room and scurried to pick up an old teacup forgotten on the bedside table and a dressing gown tossed over the end of the bed.

He imagined laying a sleeping Alec down in his bed and nearly combusted in the resulting waves of heat. Eventually unburying his burning face from the dressing gown he was holding, he magicked it and the teacup away.

He tiptoed back to Alec’s side and dropped into the chair opposite him. Alec was sleeping peacefully, his head cradled in the crook of his arm, oblivious to the dilemma he was causing. The charm Magnus had given him lay tangled with another leather necklace, and his t-shirt was contorted, stretched taught across his chest and pulled up tantalizingly along one side. Making up his mind, Magnus conjured a blanket from the closet and let it float down gently over him.

After Alec found out about his magic, they had talked the remainder of the afternoon and all evening of the Shadow World. They’d done some cuddling too, before both of them had apparently fallen asleep together, exhausted.

He’d never spoken about the Sealing and the Purge – about Essie – in so many words before. But neither had he expected Alec to accept him so readily. His earnestness had unlocked something in Magnus, and his story had poured out.  

For the first time, he allowed himself to hope for a future with Alec. He thought that maybe he hadn’t been foolish to give so much of himself away, that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in him.

He trailed his eyes over Alec’s sleeping figure, pulling his knees up against his chest to keep himself from going over to him. He seemed so much like a Shadowhunter, but so unlike at the same time. Magnus had always been captivated by the contradiction. Beyond his lack of runes and scars, he had a lighthearted vitality, knowing nothing of the strife that had plagued his ancestors. But still he had the beauty and strength of angels, captured in the fragile vessel of a human body. So easily made sick, so swiftly broken, so mortal.

Raphael’s warning came back to him then, not that he needed the reminder. He imagined spending the next sixty or eighty years with Alec, at best, and hugged his knees tighter.

He’d met Raphael only sixty years ago, when he’d become a vampire. Raphael had known him his entire unlife, but it hadn’t felt all that long to Magnus. He might have gotten unexpectedly close with Raphael, but he still considered him a relatively new friend.

Increasingly, the decades blurred together as they fell behind him. They might be punctuated by a visit from Ragnor or Catarina, who could stay for months or years, but the rest settled into a comfortable rhythm. Regular meetings with Raphael, clients passing through his apartment, and Church’s eternal disapproval were the steady beats of his days.

He spied his cats playing together across the room. Well, he conceded, Chairman Meow was trying to play with Church’s tail as he flicked it lazily from side to side, and Church was watching him warily with ears turned back.

Chairman Meow had been an unplanned addition to his life when he’d discovered a box of abandoned kittens a couple years ago. He’d found good homes for his siblings, but had kept the Chairman for Church, reasoning that Magnus himself was a poor companion in immortality. But perhaps he’d been wrong to assume Church’s views on mortals were any different than his own.

After the Purge, after he’d lost so many people at once, Magnus had felt himself grow numb. He’d always been afraid to petrify, as he’d seen some older warlocks do, to grow unfeeling and uncaring. In an attempt to preserve himself, he’d begun associating exclusively with other immortals. He reasoned that if he never had to lose anyone else, it would slow the petrification process. Somehow, he’d felt it creep up on him anyway, like the slow paralysis of sleep settling in.

But now he had Alec, and he couldn’t fathom letting him go anymore. Regaining his magic had jostled him, but Alec had lit each of his slumbering nerves like a fuse. The thought of what would happen after he was gone wrenched at him painfully. There would never be enough time for them. Still, he wanted to spend it all with Alec, even if he shortchanged himself in the end.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leona stakes out a park and makes some real progress in her investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and gender-based slurs. Nothing too crazy, but I wanted to give fair warning.

[Song: Bastille - Icarus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtW-9GMZFoU)

Leona let her head drop down resignedly, breathing in the dank smell of the earth against which she’d pressed the length of her body. She’d been staking out Prospect Park all night long and hadn’t caught a whiff or glimpse of Erik or any other werewolves.

She’d been so sure she’d finally found their hideout after her conversation with Callie. Before concealing herself downwind, she’d scoured the entire park but had discovered very little. She could tell there were some old traces of werewolves mixed in with that of humans near where she was positioned, but the pungent smell of flowers covered them all and confused her nose. It must have been due to the coming spring, though she couldn’t figure what bloomed early enough to give the flowery air its tinge of decay and rot.

Maybe she’d picked the wrong park. It’s not like there was only one park in Brooklyn, though Prospect Park was certainly the largest and woodsiest. Either way, the excitement had worn off, and she was beginning to fall asleep in the muck that seeped into her clothes and leeched the warmth from her body.

She decided to call it a night. She raised her head and propped herself up on her elbows with a deep breath before flattening herself again so quickly her chin stung from the impact. She tried confirming the smell in the air while simultaneously holding her breath in anticipation, which was admittedly difficult. She let air in and out slowly as pressure built in her lungs.

She smelled wolves. She could hear them now too, suddenly inexplicably near. She’d followed her training to the letter. They shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on her like that.

“Erik!” a female voice said loudly, with agitation, “we shouldn’t have to do this again.”

“Why are you such a pussy all of a sudden? We need another Initiate and besides, we’re doing these pathetic Mundanes an honour,” Erik chastised the first speaker.

Leona dug her fingernails into the dirt and thought of her human father. ‘Mundane’ was a slur as old and outdated as Shadowhunters. Only the most racist Downworlders still dared use it, yet Eric threw it around so casually.

“They didn’t seem honoured – they seemed in pain.”

This time Leona recognized the voice as Trish’s. She spoke quietly, but the challenge held weight. The other two boys murmured uneasily as Erik stopped to face them, now only a few yards from where Leona was hidden. His temper was showing through frayed patience.

“So what? A little pain is a small price to pay. We’re giving them Romulus’s gift and they’re strengthening us. Of course they should be honoured. And if you won’t help bring glory back to our people, there are plenty others who will. You still going to stand in the way of that progress?”

Erik was just speaking nonsense now. Romulus’s gift? Progress?

The Romans and their wolf myth had nothing to do with the Downworld (for once). Werewolves only came along centuries later. And there was nothing progressive about rehashing old torture methods. That one should have been left buried deep in the trash bin of history.

“They’re just Mundanes, Trish,” said the biggest of the group. Leona had never seen him before, but she already hated him from his stupid shaved head down to his stupid trunk-like legs and calves.

“Then why hasn’t it worked yet? Not one Initiate has Turned.”

Trish was backing down now. Leona had been rooting for her initially, but her sympathy for the other girl was quickly dwindling.

“So impatient. We’re close, but we need more Initiates. Sit this one out if you want,” Erik leered, “but you’ll have to deal with disobeying orders.”

That seemed to settle the argument as Trish’s shoulders tensed and she bowed her head. Leona inwardly began to panic when she saw the group move to leave the park.

She could hear Praetor Greene and her training screaming at her to let them pass and report back what she’d discovered, but she’d never been a great listener. If she did let them go now, she knew another person would be kidnapped and tortured.

In all of a second, she sized up the group. Taking on four people was risky, but none of them seemed like that much of a threat on their own, even the big guy, and she had surprise on her side. Confidence replaced her panic as she pushed up onto her palms and coiled her feet up beneath her body.

She’d had enough of thinking and hesitating – action had always suited her better.

Leona sprang up into their midst as they passed within striking distance, and continuing in one fluid movement, she slammed the heel of her hand upward into the biggest boy’s chin. His head snapped backward with a crack, and she pushed his crumpling body straight onto Erik, who fell beneath him with a satisfying cry. Erik wouldn’t stay down long, but hopefully long enough for her to deal with the other two first.

Trish, swearing, was the first to react and spring at her. She must have had some combat training, but it came off as amateurish. Leona easily sidestepped the wide swings of her punches.

The last boy took the opportunity to sneak behind her, but she’d never once let him escape her peripherals. Twisting sharply, she brought her elbow up square in the center of his face, feeling the crunch of his nose breaking. She leapt back from the group, narrowly missing a kick from Trish, as she gave herself some space.

With the new distance she saw Erik finally struggling to his feet, kicking the large boy’s limp body aside, while Trish was coming at her again, jaw set. The last boy lay prone where he’d dropped.

She’d done well, but the quicker she could take out Trish, the easier it would be to deal with Erik. Adrenaline pumping, she evened her breath and focused. She still had a final surprise on her side.

Launching herself at the advancing girl, she let her Change rip through her. Trish’s eyes barely had the chance to widen before Leona was crashing the full weight of her wolf body into her chest, crushing the air from her lungs in a pained gasp and slamming her to the ground.

 _Erik must be shitting himself_ , she thought as she whipped around. He had no one else to hide behind, and oh she was going to enjoy this. Their fight was overdue. She’d–

Searing heat tore through her left side before she could even recognize the deafening crack of the glittering pistol Erik pointed at her. His teeth were bared in a snarl, eyes hate-filled. He’d shot her.

She tried to push through the shock, but her steps faltered, liquid warmth spilling down her leg. She healed fast and she’d already won this fight. It was just Erik.

“I warned you, bitch!” he spat.

Instead of ebbing, the burning in Leona’s side spread into an inferno, licking through all her nerves with more pain than she’d ever felt. Excruciating.

Something was wrong. She wasn’t healing. Erik’s snarl turned triumphant. A flash of silver in his hand as he made to reload the gun.

 _I need to run_.

Leona did what she’d always done in any difficult situation – she ran. She ran blindly through brush and brambles. Spurred on by manic pain and fear, she lost all sense of time and place. Some dim part of her consciousness realized she’d left the park and Erik’s group far behind, but she kept running.

She ran until her paws slowed against her will and her vision narrowed with each ragged breath. She had just enough sanity left to know the trouble she was in. Her senses swam, sharpening painfully, and dulling when the pain got to be too much. In one of these harsh moments of clarity, she realized she’d been unconsciously following a familiar scent for a while now, a scent that stood out even underneath the crossing of countless others.

With her ebbing strength she followed it up a short set of stairs, hind legs dragging behind her. As the darkness pulled her under, she lurched up to slam against the neat row of buttons to the side of the door, where she finally collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought Leona was going to make it out of this chapter in one piece, you missed the foreshadowing with the song recommendation haha. Also, I'm sorry I had Erik shoot her :(. The plot made me do it. 
> 
> Just FYI, but I won't be updating as regularly from here on out. I will be finishing the story, and hopefully there won't be too long gaps between updates, but a lot of life things are happening for me, so we'll see how it goes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad leaving things on a cliffhanger for so long, so here's the next little piece of the story. Writing's hard y'all, and I've been working on other projects too. So no promise on when updates will be from here on out, but just know I have no plans of abandoning this story either. 
> 
> I appreciate each and every one of you who reads my story so much <3.

[Song: Ruelle - Bad Dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NmX5vcNK6E)

Alec stood at the edge of a steep chasm howling with inhospitable winds. He was desperately trying to reach Magnus on the other side.

“Magnus!” he called soundlessly, the wind snatching his voice away before it could reach even his own ears.

Magnus made no move of acknowledgment, only stood there.

Alec peered down into the fissure between them at the demons writhing and clawing at each other. Magnus’s history book illustrations paled against the abhorrent sight before him. Alec realized with fascination that there was a pattern to their movements. They were dancing a violent, interlocking waltz. It was bloody and chaotic but timed to the wailing of the wind.

With difficulty, he tore his eyes away to find that a figure shrouded in black had joined Magnus. Alec recognized Raphael, though his appearance was completely altered from when he’d seen him earlier.

He had visible fangs, and as a stray gust caught his clothes, Alec saw the underside of his cloak was a deep, blood-red. Beneath he wore a ruffled shirt – wait, no, he had no shirt on at all, and his naked abs were sparkling in the light. Vampire abs were so fabulously unfair. #TeamJacob.

Raphael took Magnus in a sparkly embrace and bit his neck. Magnus crumpled and Alec cried out. This time, the sound was startling. His voice came out as a sharp and steady thrum that shook the world and twisted–

Alec bolted awake, a blanket slipping from his shoulders, as Magnus’s buzzer rang through the apartment. The noise cut off abruptly, leaving Alec disoriented.

He vaguely recalled spending the evening talking and cuddling with Magnus on the couch, but for some reason Magnus was sitting in the chair across from him with his knees up. He was looking quizzically at his door.

“Who’s that?” Alec asked, voice thick with sleep.

Magnus jumped and turned to him.

“You’re awake!”

Alec stretched and got up.

“Couldn’t really sleep through that,” he said with a yawn.

“Forgive me, Alexander, I don’t usually get visitors at night without warning...”

“But you _do_ normally get people visiting in the middle of the night?” Alec asked as he moved to the window.

“Vampires keep difficult hours,” Magnus replied simply.

With their late-night visitor failing to make an appearance, Alec checked the building’s entrance through the window. In the harsh light reflecting off the wet concrete, he saw a dark mound slumped on the steps, a tail dragging behind it.

“Is that a dog...?” he asked uncertainly.

Magnus materialized at his shoulder in an instant.

“That’s no dog,” he said grimly. “I’m going to need your help.”

Alec followed Magnus after stunned moment, struggling to catch up to him as he hurtled out his apartment door and down the stairs.

Outside, he saw their visitor more clearly. It was much too large and wild-looking to be a dog. Magnus was kneeling by its head, feeling through the tangled, leonine mane that engulfed its entire upper body. A dark, wet trail led up the building steps and was pooling beneath the wolf – _werewolf_ , Alec corrected himself instinctively.

“Take her hind legs and help me carry her inside,” Magnus ordered briskly. “And don’t let your charm touch her.”

Alec obediently tucked his chains in his shirt and, seemingly by no volition of his own, grabbed the werewolf’s hind quarters, hands slipping in sticky, blood-soaked fur.

Their passage upstairs was a struggled, panting blur, but it got progressively easier as the werewolf began to morph back into her smaller, human form. By the time they laid her on the floor of Magnus’s apartment, she looked fully human, with only her matted mane of hair remaining to indicate she was the wolf they’d found outside.

She looked terribly pale and wore torn jeans and crop top stained red from a nasty wound in her left side. It seemed too large and was bleeding too much.

Magnus wasted no time. He waved his hands over her, flexing his sparking fingers as he carefully extricated a bullet from the gaping hole in her side. The wound appeared to _sizzle_ around the bullet as it left her.

Alec stood watching helplessly, clenching his own bloodied t-shirt in his fists.

Magnus plucked the bullet from the air and thrust it at Alec.

“Hold this.”

Alec obliged him wordlessly, feeling the warm, slick metal dig sharply into the palm of his hand.

Magnus returned to his work with brisk efficiency. Blue light suffused the room as he passed his hands over and over the bullet wound, chanting guttural words in a language Alec couldn’t recognize. Her flesh seemed to resist Magnus and his magic, but slowly it began to close.

When finally the bleeding stopped, Magnus sat back on his heels with a sigh. A starburst scar still puckered his patient’s skin, but he’d healed her and she was breathing. He was covered in smears of blood, as was everything else in the nearby vicinity.

Despite the circumstances, Alec couldn’t help but be impressed. This magical display had been far beyond making teacups appear. He’d acted so swiftly and capably. He began to understand what it meant that Magnus had lived through and fought in war.

“Will she be alright?” Alec asked anxiously.

“She lost a lot of blood. She must have moved around quite a lot to worsen her injuries to that extent, but yes, we made it to her in time. She should recover soon enough. The strength of her werewolf abilities are nothing to be laughed at.”

He looked thoughtful.

“Still, a little extra help won’t hurt.”

He snapped his stained fingers and a small vial of bright red liquid appeared in his other hand. He tilted the werewolf girl’s head back and poured the contents of the vial down her throat.

“What did you just give her?”

“A potion of mine. The main ingredient is vampire blood, which will help her recover her own blood supply. Holy water and a couple other ingredients are mixed in to counter some of the more negative effects of drinking vampire’s blood.”

Blinking out of his tangent, the werewolf out of danger, he eventually turned to Alec.

“Are _you_ alright, Alexander?” Concern was etched across his features.

Alec reflected. He felt surprisingly self-possessed now that he knew the girl would be alright and his initial shock had worn off. Perhaps he’d simply dealt with so many revelations in the past twenty-four hours that he was growing accustomed to the shocking and the traumatic.

“Yeah... I think I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please share any thoughts/comments! It helps me feel like I'm not dropping things out into the void and they make me really happy.


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